Making Mistakes
by little0bird
Summary: The story of how Albus Severus Potter was born.
1. Counting Backwards

Ginny finished buttoning James into his coat. 'Stay right there,' she told him, 'Mummy just needs to find her boots…' Ginny's voice trailed off as she gazed around the kitchen. Her boots weren't by the door, where they should have been. Now was not the time to mislay anything. She really didn't feel well. She had a cold or the flu, or something, she just couldn't shake. She wasn't madly running around the British Isles lately, as she was only covering the Harpies these days, and most of the places they went were on the Floo. But she just felt done in all the time. Ginny blew a strand of hair out of her face in frustration. She had to hurry. James was being unusually patient, but she knew it wouldn't last very long. ­_Think, Weasley_, she thought to herself. _W__here was the last place you saw the bloody things?_ Ginny mentally retraced her steps from yesterday evening. She Flooed to the _Prophet_ office from Holyhead, left her story with her editor, Apparated to the front garden, walked in the front door… Ginny strode into the hallway and saw her boots lying next to the front door. She sighed in annoyance at herself. She picked up the shoes and headed back for the kitchen quickly. James could get into mischief almost as fast as the twins.

To her relief, James was standing quietly by the window, nose pressed to the glass, watching as fat flakes of snow drifted to the ground. She shoved her feet into the boots and tied the laces. After checking that her wand was in her coat pocket, she picked up James. 'Are you ready to go see Auntie Hermione and Grandmum?' she asked him. At dinner Sunday, Hermione and Mum offered to take James for the day Saturday, after taking in Ginny's wan appearance.

'Yes!' James' face lit up. Grandmum meant chocolate biscuits.

Ginny made her way to the kitchen's fireplace and threw a handful of Floo powder in the flames. 'The Burrow,' she said. James began to giggle as they spun through the flames.

Stepping out of the fireplace, Ginny's nose was assaulted by the aromas of roasting chicken, apple pie, bread, and vegetable soup. She dropped James on the sitting room floor, and bolted for the bathroom. She heard James begin to work his way up to a good wail, but she just couldn't care right now. She slammed the door closed and leaned over the sink, retching. 'Ginny?' Molly knocked on the door. 'Are you all right, dear?'

'Yes, Mum. I'll be out in a minute.' Ginny splashed some water on her face and opened the door. Molly stood in the hallway, in her flowered apron, wand sticking out of the pocket, James snuffling in her arms.

'Let's get you some tea, dear,' Molly said mildly. Molly was a bit worried about Ginny lately. Ginny headed back down the stairs, hoping she didn't give Mum a repeat performance. Molly gestured to the sitting room. 'Go sit down. I'm going to let your father spend some quality time with the wee heathen.'

Ginny sank on the sofa, leaned back, and closed her eyes with a sigh. Nothing tasted good, or even stayed down. She was still exhausted, even after sleeping for twelve hours last night. She cracked open an eyelid when she heard the clink of a tray of tea and toast. 'Eat this,' Molly handed her a slice of dry toast, and a cup of tea. 'Ginny, I know you're a grown woman, and I don't mean to pry,' – Ginny snorted – 'but is there something you need to tell me?' Ginny stared at her mother blankly. Molly sighed. Generally Ginny wasn't this obtuse. That was Ron's area. 'Are you pregnant?' Molly asked bluntly. Ginny paled. She had thought about it, briefly a couple of weeks ago, and dismissed the idea.

'I… Uh…' Frantically, Ginny began to count backwards. 'Damn,' she whispered. 'Mum, I need to go.' She stood suddenly and Apparated to London.

Ginny checked her pocket for Muggle money. She was in the neighborhood where she and Harry first lived after the war. There was a chemist just down the street. She stood outside the door and took a deep breath. Standing out in the snow wasn't going to make this any easier. She pushed the door open, and almost furtively made her way to the correct aisle. She gazed at the selection in bewilderment. Harry had bought the last round. Ginny found the box that looked like the one she had used with James. She paid for it, tucked the bag into her coat pocket, and Apparated home.

Ginny appeared at the back door of the house and went inside. She toed her boots off at the door, and tore upstairs to the master bedroom. She laid her coat over the foot of the bed, and took the bag out of the pocket, carrying it into the bathroom like it would explode if she jarred it. She placed the box on the counter and hands shaking opened the box.

Five minutes later, Ginny had stuffed the box and paper bag into the rubbish bin, and went to sit in her favorite armchair in the corner of the bedroom. They had not planned this. Not having another one so soon. She picked up a photograph that sat on the small table next to the chair. It was a picture of Harry, James, and her right after James' birth. She traced the curve of James' head with a fingertip. Ginny steeled herself for the onslaught of questions, picked up her coat, and went back to the Burrow. And her mum.

'Mum?' Ginny called as she walked through the door.

'In the kitchen, dear.'

Ginny slid into the chair she had used as a child and propped her head on a hand. 'Mum? '

'Hmmmm?'

'Can I ask you something?'

'Of course, dear.'

'How did you do it?'

'Do what?'

'Us. All together like you did.' Ginny's voice trembled.

'Oh.' Molly sat in the chair next to Ginny's. 'It wasn't easy. Not at first. I wasn't much older than you were when you were married. And,' she added dryly, 'I'm sure you can count.' A faint pink tinge stole over Molly's cheeks. Ginny pretended to have suddenly gained great interest in her fingernails. Molly cleared her throat and continued, 'We had Bill, then Charlie. By the time Percy came along, those two were old enough to do enough for themselves. By the time you were a year old, Bill was at school.' Molly shrugged. 'My mum was still alive when Bill and Charlie were born, so she helped out some. I definitely did not do it all on my own.

'Honestly, if I had to do it over again, I'd do it in a heartbeat.'

'I'm not sure I can live up to that,' Ginny mumbled, tracing the pattern made by the wood grain of the tabletop.

'Who would expect you to?' Ginny just shrugged in reply and resumed her tracing the tabletop. Molly got up to fetch a pitcher of pumpkin juice, and pushed a glass to Ginny. 'Ginny, look at me.' Ginny's eyes remained resolutely fixed on the table's scrubbed surface. 'Ginevra Potter, look at me,' Molly said, with a hint of command that only a mother could provide. Ginny met Molly's gaze and felt tears well up before she could stop them.

'What if I mess up?' Ginny whispered, before her throat closed with the tension of trying to keep from sobbing all over her mother's shoulder.

'Gin, we _all_ make mistakes with our children.' Molly thumbed some of the tears from Ginny's cheeks.

'You didn't,' Ginny choked. Molly began to laugh.

'Yes, I did,' she gasped, between whoops of laughter. It took Molly a good several minutes to calm down enough to elaborate. 'I've never told you, have I?'

'Told me what?' Ginny asked warily.

'When Bill was two, and Charlie was only a couple of weeks old, we went to Diagon Alley to go Christmas shopping. It was probably the most insane thing I've ever done as a mother,' she reflected meditatively. 'I had stopped in a shop to purchase some wool for your father's jumper, and took a long time to decide on a color. I paid for the skein and Flooed back home. Without Bill.

'I didn't realize Bill wasn't with me until I put Charlie down in the cradle for a nap. I owled your father in hysterics. To this day, I'm not sure he could actually read the note. I snatched up Charlie, who was sound asleep at that point, and did not appreciate being awakened like that, and let me know. I Flooed back to Diagon Alley, Charlie howling at the top of his lungs, and retraced every step in every shop I'd been in that morning.

'I found Bill curled up in a corner of the fabric shop, sound asleep.' Molly chuckled quietly. 'I'm not sure who was more upset. Charlie or me. Bill didn't seem to realize anything had happened. I was convinced I was the worst mother, ever.

'Then there was the time Percy, the twins, Ron, and you all had dragon pox at the same time.' Molly shuddered at the memory. 'But that's a story for another time,' she added hastily, catching sight of the alarm on Ginny's face.

'Mum?'

'Yes?'

'Do you think it's wrong of me? To...' Ginny trailed off.

'To?' Molly prompted.

'Not stay home with James?' The tabletop was fascinating once again. Molly studied the tense set of Ginny's shoulders.

'Ginny, do you think I disapprove?' Ginny only nodded. 'Because I stayed home with you lot?' Again, the wordless nod. 'Why would I disapprove of your working?' This time, Molly received a shrug as a reply. 'Ginny, it's what _I_ wanted to do. You are doing what you want to do with your life.' Ginny gave a half-shrug. 'Ginny? Would you be happy staying home with James full time?' Ginny looked at Molly, tears trickling down her face again.

'No,' she whispered. 'Does that make me a bad mother?' she asked, stricken.

'It doesn't make Katie a bad mother. It won't make Hermione a bad mother. And it doesn't make you a bad mother. There have always been witches who were working mothers. You are not the first and you will not be the last.' Molly pulled Ginny into an embrace. 'So, is this the only thing bothering you?'

'No. Yes. No. Oh, I don't know!' Ginny's eyes were drawn to the kitchen window. She could see her father using magic to sculpt a snowman for James. James' giggles floated back to the house. Hermione had just Apparated outside the garden gate and began to help with the snowman by conjuring a hat and scarf for him. 'Can James stay with you tonight?' she asked, without thinking. 'Harry and I will pick him up at lunch tomorrow.'

'Of course. Your father will be delighted to have another boy around for the night. If you're not careful, James will be going home with a few of your father's plugs in his pockets,' Molly sighed.

'Thanks Mum. I'll be back with some of his things.'

'Don't bother, we've got plenty here. I think George and Katie might have left a few things of Fred and Jacob's last week. Those two might give their father a run for his money. Just go home and get some rest. You look like you could use it.' Molly gave Ginny a look that made her want to squirm. She had this knack of being able to see through them.

Ginny rose from the table. 'I'm going to go tell James goodbye, then head home.' Ginny wrapped her arms around her mother. 'Thanks, Mum,' she said.

* * *

Harry opened the back door of the house and slipped his scarf from his neck and draped it over one of the hooks by the door. 'Ginny?' he called, as he unbuttoned his coat. Nothing answered him but the echoes of the empty, silent house. Harry spied the folded sheet of parchment sitting on the kitchen table, with his name on the front. _Harry, I took James to Mum and Dad's. I'll be back before dinner. G._

_Just as well she's not here_­, Harry thought to himself. He'd spent the morning and early afternoon with Teddy, teaching him how to fly and as a result smelled rather like a wet dog. He needed a shower.

Harry slowly walked up the stairs to the second floor, peeling his jumper off. He entered Ginny's and his bedroom, and sat on the foot of the bed to unlace his boots. Something was eating at Ginny. She'd been far too quiet lately. Barefoot and clad only in his boxers, Harry padded into the bathroom. He turned on the hot water tap, and waited with only a bit of impatience for the water to heat up. Harry glanced around the bathroom. The rubbish bin was usually on the other side of the toilet. He bent to nudge it back to its proper location, when he saw the tip of a brightly colored cardboard box peeping from a brown paper bag stuffed into the bin. Frowning, he pulled the box out so he could examine it. He hadn't done much more than pull the bag off the box before his eyes widened in something akin to shock and all the air left his chest with an audible _whoosh_. His hands were shaking with anticipation as he searched for the evidence. She had crammed it back into the box. Harry's mouth dropped open in a perfect 'O'.

Hearing the distinct buzz of Ginny's signal as the house's Apparition detector recognized her; Harry swiftly stuffed the bag back into the bin, and jumped into the shower. He yelped a bit, because by now, the water was scalding, and he hadn't turned on the cold tap to bring the temperature down to something less dangerous. Harry stood under the spray for a long time, trying to figure out how to get Ginny to confess, before smacking himself in the forehead. _The problem with working with Dark wizards is that you start to believe everyone needs to be coerced and manipulated into confessions, Potter_, he told himself sternly. The best way to deal with Ginny was to be honest. He twisted the taps off and slid the towel off the bar. Harry dried the skin behind his ears, between his fingers and toes, and even that bit behind his knees he usually just glanced over. He even used the now-damp towel to vigorously dry his hair. He was a master procrastinator when he wanted to be.

Harry hung the towel over the bar behind the tub and crossed into the bedroom. He wasn't planning on going anywhere, so he pulled on a pair of worn pajama bottoms and a Harpies t-shirt from when Ginny still played for them. He went back down to the kitchen. It had been a long while since lunch, and he was hungry. Playing with nine-year old godsons had that effect on a person. Ginny was sitting at the table, scowling at the wall calendar. 'Mind if I have a snack?' Harry asked mildly. Ginny shook her head, still scowling at the offending calendar. Harry looked over her shoulder to see what she was scowling at, and saw she had turned it to August. 'Planning your birthday party already?' Ginny jumped.

'Not yet,' she replied absently. Harry picked up an apple from the bowl on the counter and took it back to the table. He took a bite and offered it to Ginny. She took it from his hand, and looked at it, suddenly ravenous. She bit into the crisp flesh of the apple, the sweet-tart juice filling her mouth and passed it back to Harry.

They passed the apple back and forth in companionable silence until nothing but the core remained. Harry lightly tossed it into the rubbish bin, without looking, grinning when it sailed neatly into it. 'Clown,' Ginny murmured, momentarily distracted from her thoughts.

'We need to talk,' he said abruptly. Ginny's head snapped up and even though she was already pale, what little color drained from her face. _Great, Potter, scare the woman off_, Harry grumbled to himself.

'Not now, Harry. Please?' Ginny pushed her chair away from the table and nervously left the kitchen. Harry followed her, determined to have it out of her before dinner.

'Yes, Ginny. Now.' Ginny was halfway up the stairs. 'We need to talk about that package that's in the rubbish bin in our bathroom.' She stopped and dropped to a riser halfway up the staircase.

'You saw it?' she asked weakly.

'Yeah. And I don't understand why you didn't feel you could tell me something like that!' he shouted.

'I didn't know myself until one-thirty this afternoon, you prat!' she yelled down the stairs at him.

'Oh.' Speechless, Harry found himself striding up the stairs to his wife. He crouched next to her and when she didn't push him away for being an insensitive git, he put an arm around her shoulders. 'How long have you even thought you might be…?' He let the rest of the question spiral off into the silence. Ginny sighed and leaned into his chest.

'Two weeks ago, I thought maybe, but it didn't feel like it did with James, so I thought I wasn't and that it was a flu I couldn't shake.' Ginny shrugged helplessly. 'But when I took him over to Mum after lunch, I barely had time to put him down before I threw up in the bathroom sink. Mum actually sort of pushed me into finding out.'

'Wait, where _is_ James?' Harry looked for the miniature whirlwind. 'It's too damn quiet in here.'

'I left him with Mum and Dad. Mum thought you and I should do this without getting interrupted every three seconds.'

'Oh, okay.' Harry settled back against the staircase. 'So?' he prompted.

'So… I went that chemist near our first flat and, well… you saw it.' Harry just nodded. 'Do you really think we can do this?' she asked in a small voice, an echo of what she had said when they found out she was pregnant with James.

'Yes,' he said firmly, 'I do.' He pulled her closer. 'Look at it this way,' Harry said conversationally, 'the closer they are in age, the sooner they all go to Hogwarts, and the sooner we get the house to ourselves again.' Ginny was silent. Harry knew that pensive look that came over her face every so often. 'Hey,' he said, gently tugging a lock of her hair, 'what's going on in there?'

'When did I become this weepy uncertain _girl_?' Ginny wasn't sure what scandalized her more – being weepy and uncertain, or being such a girl.

'Oh, please. You were this weepy and girlie when you were carrying James, Gin,' Harry smirked, dodging a punch from Ginny. 'That should have been your first clue.'

Ginny stood and stretched, and chose to ignore Harry's comment. 'I'm going to go have a nap before dinner.' She held out her hand to Harry. 'Come with me?' Harry hauled himself to his feet and took Ginny's small hand in his larger one. He allowed her to lead him into their bed and he automatically spooned her out of long habit. Ginny was asleep in minutes, worn out by her day. Harry stayed awake much longer, his hand spread over Ginny's stomach. _Do you want kids?_ she had asked him so long ago. _Yes, Ginevra, I do_, he thought.

Harry didn't sleep very long. He never did in the afternoons. It made him groggy for the rest of the day. He quietly slipped out of bed, and went back to the kitchen. He stared into the depths of the refrigerator, unsure of what to cook for dinner, as Ginny's eating habits had become somewhat erratic. He frowned as the memory of what she did eat when she was pregnant with James crossed his mind. _Something simple, then_, he thought. Reminding himself to thank Molly for teaching him how to cook with magic the summer after the war, Harry added vegetables to one of their larger pots, and set it to simmer. The soup would be ready when Ginny woke up.

He went into the sitting room. A night without James meant a night where he and Ginny could actually spend some time together without trying to corral the tiny fiend. Harry shook his head. He hoped Hogwarts would still be standing after James and his cousins got through with it. Fred and Jacob would be bad enough, but it seemed James was going to live up to his grandfather's legacy. Harry loved his son more than his own life, and would throw himself in front of a Killing curse to save him, but it was nice to have a few hours without James.

Harry ran a finger down the spines of the shiny DVD cases. Ginny had embraced his love of old films and cherished the time they could spend together watching them. _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ or _Roman Holiday_? Ginny loved both of them. Her choice, then. He put them both of the coffee table. He looked up at the ceiling, as he heard a thump come from the upper floor.

Ginny woke up and stretched. Feeling rested, and restless, she swung her legs from under the quilt and stood up. It was halfway through January. She had just about seven months left. _Sitting in here isn't going to get anything ready_, she thought. She walked down the hallway, passing James' room. The next closest room was across the hall, the door just past James'. She pushed the door open, and went to stand in the middle of the room, the only light drifting in through the uncurtained windows.

She ran her fingertips over the dust that lay on the curves of the rocking chair that sat in the middle of the room. They had moved it out of James' room a few months ago. The last time Ginny had tried to rock him to sleep; he pushed himself off her shoulder, looked at her with his big dark brown eyes, and said, 'No, Mummy. No rock.' Ginny had stared at him in open-mouthed shock, before rising from the chair. She kissed him and deposited him into his cot, handed him his favorite stuffed dragon, and dragged the rocker into the room across the hall. Looking around the room, Ginny began to visualize what it might look like. She hurried into the bedroom to retrieve her wand, and went back into what would be the new baby's room.

Ginny mulled over what color the walls would be. James' were the same soft butter-yellow shade from the other bedroom in their old flat. She waved her wand at one of the walls. Green. The color of new grass in the paddock behind the Burrow in the spring. Ginny nodded in satisfaction, and changed the remaining three walls to match the first. She turned in a small circle, searching for the perfect location for the rocker. There, in the corner by one of the windows. She levitated the rocker to its corner and let it fall with a muffled thump.

Harry burst into the room. He stopped in the doorway, taking in the color of the walls before he turned his stern gaze to Ginny. 'I thought you were sleeping,' he said. Ginny just raised an eyebrow at him in response.

'I just didn't want to leave things to the last minute.' She waved a hand at the walls. 'Do you like them?' Harry came to stand behind her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He thoughtfully examined the color.

'Yeah. I do.' He sounded surprised.

'Gee. It's nice to know you have faith in my ability to choose a paint color.'

'I do! Just why green?' he asked curiously.

'Think I'm going to turn our kid into a Slytherin?' she scoffed.

'No! There's nothing wrong with being a Slytherin, anyway. And stop answering my questions with a question.'

Ginny sighed. 'Truthfully?'

'Yup.'

Ginny held up a lock of her own flaming red hair. 'Green is one of the few colors that _don't_ clash horribly with red hair.' She let the strands fall back over her shoulder. 'And it's not pink or blue.' Ginny mock-shuddered in revulsion at the traditional colors for babies.

'I like the chair over there,' Harry commented. 'You can see out into the back garden.'

'I know,' Ginny replied smugly.

A thought suddenly occurred to Harry. 'When?' he asked simply.

'August, I think. Between your birthday and mine.'

'You know, if we keep going at this rate, your mum will have to start having one big birthday bash.' Harry started counting off. 'You, me, James, Hermione, Percy, the new baby. Am I missing anyone?'

'I don't think so.'

The scent of vegetable soup wafted up the stairs. As with the apple she had shared with Harry earlier, Ginny was suddenly ravenous. 'Please tell me that's dinner,' she begged.

'Why? Are you hungry or something?'

'You know, Harry, the sofa is quite comfortable,' Ginny said idly. Harry just rolled his eyes. He knew from the single time Ginny had made him sleep on the sofa, she ended up joining him with the excuse she couldn't sleep without him anymore.

'Maybe it's dinner. Or maybe it's a snack for you. I dunno.' Harry squinted at her. 'Are you going to eat like you did with James? If it's not nailed to the table and all that?'

Ginny flushed. 'I'll nail _you_ to the table,' she muttered darkly, as she flounced out of the room and down the stairs. Harry's shout of laughter followed her down the stairs.

'You know you love me, Ginny!'

* * *

A/N: I mentioned at the end of ch. 6 of Questions and Answers that I was going to do Al and Lily's births. I've had this chapter collecting dust in my hard drive for ages.

This one isn't going to be nearly as fluffy as Firewhisky Advice, even though there's a fair amount of fluff in this bit. It will probably fall between Burning Down the House and Firewhisky Advice in terms of tone.


	2. But Not Yet

Ginny nudged the empty bowl aside, and reached for a slice of bread. She methodically tore it into pieces. Harry picked up her bowl and took it to the sink. 'I can do that,' she protested. 'I'm only pregnant, not crippled.'

Harry shrugged. 'You can do it next time.'

Ginny let her head fall to the table with an audible _thunk_. 'Ow.'

Harry filled the sink with hot, soapy water. 'How are you feeling? I meant to ask earlier.'

'Meh.'

'What's "meh"?'

'Tired,' Ginny said. 'No, not tired.' She paused considering. 'Worn out. Exhausted. Chasing James around, covering the Harpies, this…' She lifted her head from the table. 'Nauseated most of the day. Not like James, though, where the sight of food made me want to vomit, just where nothing tastes like it's supposed to. Then around two or three in the afternoon, I get hungry, and I want_something_, I just don't know what.' She chewed one of the shards of bread meditatively. 'And you've seen the weepy, emotional thing already.'

Harry nodded, as he pulled a dishtowel from a drawer and picked up a bowl and began to dry it. 'Are we telling people?'

Ginny rolled a cube of bread between her fingers. 'Not yet,' she sighed.

Harry eyed Ginny speculatively. ­_When had she started to show with James?_ he wondered. _Third month?__Fourth month? _'Uh, Gin?'

'Hmmm?'

'How far along are you?'

'I'm not sure. Six weeks, maybe?'

Harry put the last dish away in the cupboard. 'We're going to have to tell them sometime. Not exactly something you can hide for long.'

'I_know_!' Ginny said irritably. She drew in a deep breath, counting to ten as she slowly released it. She massaged her temples. 'After Hermione and Ron have their baby. She's only got another month to go.' She looked at Harry pleadingly. 'Please? Don't say anything yet.'

Harry frowned. 'If that's what you want,' he said reluctantly. 'Who else knows?'

'You and me for sure. Mum knows, even though I didn't come out and say so.' Ginny went to fetch the teakettle and fill it with water. 'I'll talk to her tomorrow.' She looked at Harry, as she put the kettle on the stove. He was nervously arranging the dishtowel on the bar. 'Spit it out,' she sighed. 'I know you want to say something.'

'Why don't you want to tell anyone?' Harry leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. 'It's not like they're not going to find out sooner or later.'

'I'd just prefer it to be later, all right?' Ginny pulled a cup from the cupboard.

'Gin, I'm sorry… I just don't get it. You'll have to give me a better reason than that.'

Ginny set the kettle down slowly. 'I just need some time,' she mumbled into her cup. 'To get used to the idea of it all. I didn't want…' She stopped herself.

'To get pregnant again?'

'Yes. No.' Ginny inhaled as she watched the expression on Harry's face tighten. 'It's not that black and white,' she said defensively.

Harry walked to his chair at the table and turned it so he could straddle it and look at Ginny. 'Yes, it is.'

'No, it's not,' Ginny insisted. 'And don't play the orphan card.'_What the hell did I just say?_ Ginny mentally smacked herself on the forehead.

Harry's hands tightened on the back of the chair. Ginny could clearly see the scars on the back of his left hand. 'I wasn't going to,' he said tightly.

Ginny felt tears well up. _Damn it_. This was not going how she planned. 'I didn't mean to say that.' She tried to keep the tears from falling, but failed. 'I just didn't want to get pregnant again so soon!' She was getting worked up to a good rant. 'James is still in nappies, he's barely a year old. He's getting into everything that's not three feet over his head. And the breastfeeding. God, Harry, as involved as you are, you can't do that, and it's every couple of hours, day and night! What if this one is like James, and he won't take a bottle at that bloody three in the morning feeding? Sometimes, I feel like I'm barely able to tread water with just one, and we're going to add another one?'

Harry was breathing in shallow pants, he was almost as angry as she was. 'I thought you wanted more than one child!'

'I do!' Ginny shouted. 'I just don't want us to turn into my family!'

As soon as the words left her mouth, Ginny clapped a hand over it. Both of them stared at each other in stunned silence, all the air in the kitchen seemed to have vanished. Her eyes were wide, dark pools. Harry's hands clutched convulsively on the wood of the chair back. 'Explain,' he said quietly, as if he was speaking to an Auror trainee.

Ginny's mouth worked silently a few times. She slid to the floor, palming the tears off her cheeks, sniffling. 'Oh my God,' she whispered. She felt her stomach heave, and Ginny shot to her feet and hit the back door at a run, not caring that her sock-clad feet sank into several inches of snow. She leaned against the back of the broom shed, and threw up into the snow, crying as she did so. She felt Harry's hands pull her hair from her face, lightly rubbing her back.

Harry waited for Ginny to finish. 'Gin? Come on, we need to go back inside.'

Ginny nodded in misery. Harry leaned down, and swung her into his arms, as if she weighed less than James. She cried into his t-shirt as he carried her into the house, and up the stairs to their bedroom. He settled on the armchair, and peeled her soaked socks off her feet, then rocked her slowly until she calmed down. When she had stopped crying with a hiccup, he brushed her hair from her face with a gentle hand. 'Would you mind telling me what that was about?' he asked mildly.

Ginny wriggled from his grasp, and slowly paced across the room a few times, trying to sort it out herself. She went to sit on the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. 'I don't know, really.'

But she did. She remembered every tension-filled dinner when Hogwarts letters came, as her parents whispered under the hubbub of the boys' chatter. She remembered with vivid clarity her second-hand books and robes. It didn't matter much to her. Ginny hadn't ever been materialistic that way. But she remembered how much it had hurt Ron. How much he had hated the too-short pajamas, the already-worn clothing by the time he got it. She had seen the near-feral look on Fred's face when she came home the summer after her fourth year, and he was telling them how well the shop was doing. And the slight worry on George's. Percy coming far too close to equating money with morals for comfort. Bill leaving England for Egypt, so he could make more money than if he had stayed at home. Charlie leaving school early to go work on the dragon preserve in Romania.

Ginny slowly lifted her gaze to Harry's face. 'It's silly.'

'It's not silly if it makes you cry like that.'

'You were never poor,' she began.

Harry snorted. 'Yes, I was. From the age of one to eleven. My first school uniform was the first set of clothes I ever had that fit and weren't ten sizes too big.'

'But you never had to worry about money after you found out who you were.'

'Only in the wizarding world. That vault full of Galleons in Gringott's didn't do me any good at my… At the Dursley's.'

'You know the fund for poor students at the school?' Ginny asked.

'Yeah.' Harry looked at Ginny questioningly.

'We had to use it. My first year. And my second.'

'Why?' Harry had never heard about this.

'Five of us at Hogwarts,' she said pointedly. 'On Dad's salary.'

'Ginny, I would have given your family everything I had, if your mum and dad would have accepted it.'

'They wouldn't have,' she said a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice.

'No,' agreed Harry.

'It was hardest on Ron,' Ginny reflected. 'At least I got a few new things every so often, being the only girl. Poor Ron got everything after it had been run roughshod by everyone from Bill on down to the twins.' Ginny's hand fell to the quilt, and she began to trace the path of the stitching with a forefinger. 'I decided when you and I started dating, that I wasn't going to ever be in a situation where we would have to do that to our children.'

'That would never happen, Gin,' Harry said, trying to convince her. 'Between what I inherited from my parents and Sirius, it's not something we have to worry about. And we both have good jobs,' he added.

'Look at what happened to the Malfoys,' she muttered.

'That's different. They're not poor, either Gin. Just not as wealthy as they were. Lucius and Draco Malfoy are still wealthy enough that they don't have to work,' Harry replied evenly.

'But it can happen.' Ginny knew she was being unreasonably stubborn.

'Yes, it can.' Harry was willing to say anything to placate Ginny right now.

'And I'm scared,' she admitted, talking more to the pillow in her lap, than Harry.

'Why?' Harry had moved to the bed, perching on the foot and leaning against one of the posts.

'I don't want any of our children to ever feel like Ron.' Harry started. He was certain he had never told Ginny about the locket, and was pretty sure Ron hadn't either. He wasn't even sure if Ron had ever told Hermione about it. Ginny continued as if Harry hadn't reacted. 'I saw it all the time. Ron… He's always been so overshadowed by everyone, even me, because I was the only girl born to the Weasleys in generations. Even at school, between you and Hermione – the Boy Who Lived and the cleverest damn witch to hit Hogwarts in ages. Don't get me wrong, there are things Ron is bloody brilliant about when he puts his mind to it, and forgets he's one of the Weasley boys.' Ginny was visibly drooping by now. She closed her eyes, and began to relax into sleep.

Harry crawled up to Ginny on the bed. 'Gin?'

Ginny woke up, flailing a bit. She turned her head to see Harry stretched out beside her. 'I'm sorry,' she mouthed.

'It's all right,' he said soothingly, as he unbuttoned her jeans, and worked them off. He tugged the pillow from her grasp and pulled the quilt over her. 'Get some sleep.' He sat next to Ginny as she snuggled into the pillow and fell asleep. He leaned back against the headboard, stroking her hair. 'We can handle it, Gin. I promise.'

* * *

Harry trudged downstairs, and flopped on the sofa. He eyed the films he had chosen for their evening alone. It was a total wash. He groaned and Banished them to their shelf. His head hurt. Ginny had had doubts and fears when she was pregnant with James, of course, but this was something he had never seen before. 'Orphan card,' he snorted. It was _almost_ below the belt. _Almost_. And, oh, how close she had been. He had been ready to tell her that if she had no family, she wouldn't be so quick to think having another baby was a bad thing. He pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sure what had made him so angry – that she had actually said it, or that she had doubts. Maybe both.

'Harry?' Ron's voice came from the sitting room fireplace.

Harry let his glasses fall back into place, and he lifted his head from the back of the sofa. 'Everything okay?' he asked worriedly. Hermione was due to give birth in a month or so. 'Hermione all right?'

'Oh yeah.' Harry could see Ron dismissively wave off Harry's concern. 'Is Ginny around?'

'No. She's gone to bed.'

Ron's head tilted as he checked the time. 'It's barely eight-thirty,' he observed. 'She feeling all right? Looked a bit peaky at lunch Sunday.'

'Rough week,' Harry said smoothly, grateful he didn't have distinctive "tells" that gave away when he was deliberately lying about something.

It seemed to satisfy Ron. 'Can I come over for a bit? I need to talk to you.'

'Can it wait until tomorrow?' Harry was starting to feel the day himself.

'No.' Ron's voice was serious in a way that made Harry sit up.

'Come on. We'll go into my office.'

Ron's head disappeared and in seconds, all of Ron spun onto the hearth rug. Harry laid a finger over his lips, signaling Ron to be quiet. Ron nodded and followed Harry into the small office off the sitting room. 'Thanks, mate.'

'No worries. So then… What is it?' Harry fully expected Ron to burst into a babble of baby-related worries, but he was not expecting what Ron said next.

'It's this.' He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment sealed inside a Muggle plastic storage bag.

Harry took it from him, with a raised eyebrow. 'You've been watching_Law and Order_ again, haven't you?' He raised the bag and examined the parchment inside. 'I thought Hermione cut you off.'

'She tried to.' Ron grinned.

'So what is this?' Harry gestured to the parchment.

Ron immediately sobered. He pulled out his wand and put Silencing and Impenetrable charms on the door. 'Death threat.'

'On who?'

'Hermione.'

'Why?'

'House-elf regulations she's drafting.'

Harry's eyes widened. It had been Hermione's dream to create a set of laws regarding the treatment of house-elves for over ten years. He carefully set the bag on the desk, and rummaged for his dragon-hide gloves. Harry pulled them on, and gingerly opened the bag, and pulled out the letter. It looked like it had been written by a character in a prosaically-written crime novel. The letters had been cut from old magazines.

_Listen, Mudblood – Stop trying to make the beasts equal to wizards. Have you no pride? Of course not; you're nothing but a filthy Mudblood. If you don't stop, we'll stop you._

Harry looked at Ron, as he carefully replaced the note in the bag and stripped the gloves off. 'Is this the first one?'

Ron tried to keep from squirming. 'Yeehhhhh – No,' he admitted. 'Just the latest one.'

'How many has she gotten?' Harry pulled a scrap of parchment across the desk, going into Auror mode, leaving everything else behind.

'Once a week for the past six weeks. They usually come to the flat. She just tosses them into the fire, but she wasn't home this afternoon when it showed up.'

'Is she worried at all?'

'Doesn't appear to be. She says it's just the same kind of gits who sent her hate mail during our fourth year.'

'So let me get this straight.' Harry leaned back, massaging his temples. 'Hermione's been getting threatening notes for almost two months?'

'Right.'

'And she's not worried or bothered by them?'

'No.'

'So why are you just now telling me this?'

'She doesn't know I'm here. I wanted to tell you the first time we got one.'

'Ah.' Harry nodded.

'Am I right to be worried?' Ron cracked his knuckles nervously.

Harry twirled the quill in his fingers. 'I would be. But I'm paranoid.' Harry put the quill down. 'I'll take this over to Gibson first thing Monday,' he said referring to the Head Auror. Harry looked at the note thoughtfully. 'Actually,' he said slowly. 'I might go over his head and take it to Kingsley first. Tomorrow at lunch, we should make some discreet inquiries to see if anyone else has gotten one.'

Ron looked startled. 'Why would…?' His expression cleared. 'Oh, right.' He gave Harry a hard look. 'Have you gotten one?'

'No,' Harry assured him.

'Really? You're not just yanking my chain?'

'Ron, mate, you've got a wife who's eight months gone with child. You don't mess with a man whose wife is that pregnant.' When Ron still didn't look convinced, Harry sighed. 'I promise Ron, on the head of my son, I haven't received one of those notes. And if I had, I would have said something.'

'Do you think anyone else has one?'

'Maybe anyone else who's working on this with Hermione. Family…' Harry shrugged. 'I'm not sure. But we're shite at keeping secrets in this family.'

'Yeah.' Ron gave a half-hearted chuckle.

'We've got a good third-year trainee in the Aurors,' Harry said. 'I'll get her to check on Hermione at the Ministry. Good surveillance training.'

'Since when did you start working with the trainees?'

'Since last fall,' Harry mused. 'Gibson's looking to retire soon, so she's starting to delegate some of her duties, like working with the trainees.'

'Which is why you want to take this to Kingsley.'

'Yeah. Gibson's nice and all, but she's not really into it anymore.'

Ron nodded. 'Thanks, mate. I mean it.' He stood up. 'I'd better get back. She's a little… Uh… Emotional lately.'

Harry chuckled quietly. 'I know how that goes,' he said sympathetically. He walked Ron into the sitting room, and Ron Flooed back to London. Harry leaned on the mantle. He let his thoughts drift back to that letter sitting on his desk. 'Just what I need right now. A frightened pregnant wife, a rambunctious toddler, and a death threat. Doesn't get any better than this,' he drawled sarcastically.

Harry turned around and headed upstairs, using his wand to turn off the lights downstairs. It was time for him to get to bed.

It looked like it was going to be seven long months.


	3. Suspicions

Harry silently opened the door and slipped inside the dimly lit bedroom. He tiptoed into the bathroom to brush his teeth, hoping the sound of running water didn't wake Ginny. He sat on the edge of the tub, trying to keep the minty foam from dripping onto the bathmat. He wondered whether or not to tell Ginny about Ron's visit. Ever since the end of the war, he had made a conscious effort to tell Ginny what he was doing with the Aurors. But in light of everything going on, he wasn't sure.

Death threats were something altogether different.

Harry spit the mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his toothbrush. He was going to risk a lot either way. 'Damned if I do, and damned if I don't,' he muttered. Usually anybody or anything he investigated didn't have anything to do with the family. Whoever these people were, they obviously didn't have any qualms about threatening a pregnant woman. He needed to keep this quiet all around. If anything were to happen to Ginny as a result of his involvement…

He knew and understood the risks of his job, and the last thing he wanted was to pull Ginny into this. Dark wizards, or what there were of them any more, would just as soon use a family member to get information, if they couldn't use the real person. He remembered all too well the nights he just watched Teddy sleep in his cot, wondering how Tonks could have willingly put herself in danger. The days when Teddy asked where his mum and dad were. When Teddy started leaning to talk and kept calling Harry 'Da' and the look of hurt confusion when Harry tried to tell him he wasn't his father. The last thing he wanted to do was put Ginny in a position where she could be hurt or killed, leaving James without a mother.

Or Merlin, help them, if something happened to the baby.

­_Keep it quiet, then_, Harry thought. If nothing else, at least until the case was closed, he would keep Ginny in the dark about it. The less she knew the better. He looked down at his hand. _I must not tell lies._ 'This isn't a lie,' he said fiercely. 'Just not telling her straightaway.' _Yeah, Potter, whatever helps you feel better._

Harry turned out the light, and went into the bedroom. He tried to climb into bed, without waking Ginny, but she was already awake. 'Who was downstairs earlier?' she asked curiously.

Harry's breath caught slightly. _Tell enough truth, Potter, then maybe you won't feel so bad about not telling her about the case._ 'Ron.'

'Is everything all right?'

'Yeah, just needed some man time.'

'Man time?'

'Yeah, you know… Where we grunt, scratch, and pound our chests.' He caught Ginny's slightly distasteful look and grinned sheepishly.

'I've never wanted you more,' she said dryly.

'I'll show you my chest hair if it helps.'

'All two of them? I think I'll pass.' Ginny slid out of bed and began rooting in her wardrobe for something to wear to bed, besides her knickers and a jumper. She paused, her hands clutching a pair of pajama bottoms. 'I'm sorry. About what I said earlier.'

'It's all right,' Harry said, with a shrug.

'No, it's not. The orphan remark was a low blow. Even for me.'

'Gin, look, we've both said things before in the heat of an argument we didn't mean. It happens.' Harry watched as Ginny pulled the pajama bottoms on, and slid back into bed. 'If it makes you feel any better, having another one scares the hell out of me, too.'

Harry twirled a strand of Ginny's hair around his finger. 'The thing is, I want to become your family. Not with seven kids,' he said hastily at the look of alarm on her face. 'Your family may not have had a lot of money, and I saw that and how it affected Ron, but it never stopped you from loving each other.'

'Thanks.'

'What for?'

'I needed to hear that.' Ginny heaved a sigh, and leaned into Harry's body. 'Do you mind waiting? To tell everyone?'

'Not really, but I do want to know what you've got against saying anything right now.'

Ginny began to plait her hair. 'It took so long for Ron and Hermione to get pregnant. It needs to be about them for a while,' she said quietly. 'Does that make any sense at all?'

'Yeah, it does.'

'After she has the baby. Well, not _right_ after…'

'Because that's not awkward at all to announce you're having another baby, just after your sister-in-law gives birth.'

'Prat,' Ginny murmured a fleeting smile on her face. 'The week after, then.'

* * *

Harry walked into the Burrow, and was met by a tiny whirlwind shouting, 'Da-deeeee!'

'Hiya, James! Harry swung James into his arms, making the little boy squeal with delight. 'Were you a good boy for Grandmum?' Harry asked mock-sternly. James just giggled and tried to feed Harry a soggy ginger biscuit. Harry pretended to eat the proffered biscuit, making 'nummm' noises. 'Mmmmm. Yummy biscuit,' Harry informed his offspring.

'W'ere Mummy?' James craned his neck around Harry's head to try and find Ginny.

'She's on her way, mate,' Harry said. He set James on the floor. 'Go find Grandad, okay?'

At the mention of Arthur's name, James brightened, and he dug into the pocket of his overalls. He unearthed a plug and held it up to Harry on an outstretched, sticky palm. 'See, Dahdee? Issa pug!' he pronounced proudly. 'Gandahd g'ab it.'

'Brilliant,' Harry said crouching down to admire it. 'See if Grandad will give you another one, eh?' He sent James off with a light swat on his heavily padded bottom. He straightened and Molly handed him a wet dishcloth. 'Blech. I thought the dirty nappies were bad enough,' he sighed as he wiped the soggy mess of biscuit from his hand.

'Where_is_ Ginny?' Molly asked, turning back to the stove.

'She's fine. Just wasn't feeling too good, so she's going to come closer to lunchtime.' Harry rinsed the dishcloth and draped it over the sink to dry. 'Can I have a quick word, Molly?'

Molly had a sneaking suspicion about what it was, but merely nodded.

Harry picked up a spoon and stirred a large pot of soup simmering on the back of the stove. 'She's pregnant,' he said, not bothering with preliminaries. 'And she doesn't want to tell anyone yet.' Harry tasted the soup. 'Needs salt,' he commented. 'But she said you probably knew, and I just thought I'd ask if you'd not say anything.'

'Why doesn't she want anyone to know?'

'It's Ron and Hermione's turn. And she's right. It would be awful to steal their thunder. Given everything they've been through the last year. We've done this before.' Molly continued to gaze at him with a great deal of skepticism. 'Really, Molly, it's fine.'

Molly opened the oven door, and basted the chickens roasting inside. She closed it with a _thump_ and wiped her hands on her apron. 'Could I at least tell Arthur? After you lot have all gone home later?' she pleaded. 'I can't not tell him something like this.'

Harry chewed his lower lip, thinking. 'All right, but please tell him to keep it under wraps for now?' Harry picked up a loaf of bread, and began to slice it. 'Can I ask you something else?'

'Sure.'

'Have you gotten any… Odd letters, lately?'

Molly noticed the slight strain in Harry's voice. 'No. Nothing unusual.'

Harry set the knife down and looked up at Molly. 'Molly, I'm not asking you as a son, I'm asking you as an Auror. I need to know.'

Molly raised an eyebrow. 'Why would we get an odd letter here?' she scoffed lightly. 'Really, dear, we haven't gotten anything.'

Harry slumped a bit in relief. 'Just let me know if you do, okay?'

Molly nodded and the conversation was cut short by the rowdy entrance of George, Katie, and the twins.

* * *

Bronwyn Rhys Weasley spent most of her life – when not in school, or in St. Mungo's Healer training program – on the dragon reserve near Holyhead in Wales. She did it all – set broken bones, patched up burns, scrapes, gashes, the nastier dragon bites, nursed children (and the occasional adult) through bouts of dragon pox, took care of sick witches and wizards, reversed mild cases of accidental spell damage, and even delivered babies every so often. So when she opened the back door of the Burrow, to call the men from the tool shed in for lunch, the sight of her sister-in-law trying to quietly be sick behind the broom shed didn't even make her blink.

Bronwyn made a show of tramping through the snow so as not to startle Ginny. Ginny straightened up and wiped the back of her mitten across her mouth. Bronwyn pulled out her wand, and conjured a glass, and then filled it with water. She wordlessly handed it to Ginny.

Ginny accepted the water, gratefully, using a few swallows to rinse her mouth. 'Thanks,' she mumbled.

Bronwyn nodded, Healer training taking over, as she took Ginny's face between her hands. 'Just let me have a look at you, all right?' she murmured soothingly. 'If you've got something I can treat, I'll take care of it before lunch, eh?' Bronwyn frowned slightly. No signs of fever, or any sort of illness. Aside from looking a bit tired and pale, Ginny looked healthy. In fact, she looked a lot like she did in the first few months with James. Bronwyn inhaled sharply at the realization and gave Ginny a look. 'Oh. I see.'

'Don't say anything,' Ginny whispered.

'Does Harry know?'

'We just found out yesterday,' Ginny said, looking over Bronwyn's shoulder into the kitchen. 'I – we – want to wait to say anything until after Hermione…' She looked back at Bronwyn.

'Not a problem. But…' Bronwyn hesitated. As a Healer, this conversation could be considered a diagnosis, and therefore, strictly confidential. But if Charlie noticed Ginny wasn't feeling well, he'd spend hours trying to convince Bronwyn to tell him what was wrong with Ginny. 'You know Charlie.'

Ginny sighed. 'Yeah. Just…' Ginny chewed her lip, gazing at the kitchen windows again. 'Tell him James acts like Fred and George, and I'm just tired. Please?'

Bronwyn put an arm around Ginny's shoulders. 'He'll buy that. James had him running ragged until he escaped to the tool shed with your dad and Bill.'

* * *

Harry sat on the sofa, closest to the armchair where Hermione was sprawled. 'Hey, can I talk to you?'

'If it's baby advice, just stop. I've heard more than I want to hear the past five months. From random witches in the Ministry, Diagon Alley. Even on the street in front of the flat. Women I've never seen before, but who seem to think that the bigger I get, the less intelligent I am,' Hermione huffed indignantly.

'No. Too many people did that with Gin for me to even try.' Harry shook his head chuckling. He sobered and leaned forward. 'It's the letters. Ron told me,' he said quietly, laying a warning hand on her arm to keep her from ranting. 'He's worried, Hermione. You should have said something the first one.'

'It's nothing,' she said flatly. 'Just people with too much free time who have nothing else better to do than try to harass me.'

'Hermione, he's right,' Ron said, sitting on the other side of her. 'This isn't just idle insults like fourth year.'

'Hermione, please. I'm taking this to Kingsley in the morning. I need to be able to tell him everything. So I need you to tell me what's been going on.'

'You're turning into Moody,' commented Hermione. 'Paranoid, seeing shadows that aren't there.'

'Probably,' agreed Harry. 'But still… I need the whole story, Hermione.' He fixed her with a glare. 'And I need for you _not_ to tell any of this to Ginny.'

'Why don't we talk about this later?' Ron interjected quickly, nodding toward the doorway, where Ginny stood, talking quietly to Bronwyn.

Ginny had only half her mind on whatever it was she was talking about with Bronwyn. She watched the hushed, hurried conversation between Harry, Ron, and Hermione break apart as she came into the sitting room. Her hackles rose irrationally at the sight of the three of them cozily ensconced in something that didn't include her. It made her feel like she was sixteen again, and her mother was forcing her to leave the battle, and Harry refused to say anything in her defense.

Harry came over to her, and absently kissed her cheek. Her heart sank at the idea that he was keeping something from her.

* * *

One by one, Harry went to each Weasley, managing to casually ask if they'd received any strange letters lately, without arousing too many suspicions. They all replied in the negative. All except Percy. Percy had flushed and muttered something about needing to get Parker up from his nap.

Harry followed Percy out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 'Perce?' Percy stopped outside Fred and George's old room, his hand on the doorknob. Percy peered down the stairs, and nervously straightened his glasses.

'I've gotten a couple of… Warnings,' he said softly. 'About working with Hermione on the house-elf regulations. They've come to the house, and I just threw the first few in the fire. The last one was…' Percy trailed off, readjusting his glasses. 'It wasn't pleasant,' he finished.

'Do you still have it?' asked Harry urgently.

Percy looked resigned and unhappy, but nodded. 'Yes. It's in my desk at the Ministry. I didn't want to keep it in the house where Penny could see it,' he said miserably.

'Do you mind if I have a look at it tomorrow?'

Percy shook his head. 'What are you going to do?'

'I don't know yet,' Harry admitted.

'You're not going to tell anyone else, are you?' Percy's face creased in worry.

'I'll have to tell Ron and Hermione. She's gotten some, too.'

Percy swore, then immediately cringed, hoping the children inside the bedroom were all asleep and hadn't heard him. 'Are you going to take it to Kingsley?'

'I was thinking about it.'

Percy nodded. 'Good idea. Gibson'll just wave it off as nonsense.'

'I'm going to set some surveillance on you. At home and the Ministry.' Harry ran his hand through his hair. 'I'll arrange it so it won't disrupt your home life.'

'Thanks. I appreciate that.' Percy opened the bedroom door, and tiptoed into the room to scoop Parker from one of the beds. Before he went back downstairs to Floo home with Penny, he stopped and looked at Harry. 'I hope you find them.' He shifted Parker to a more comfortable position, so Parker's sleep-sweaty head rested on his shoulder. 'The last one – it threatened to do something to Penny. And Parker.'

Harry's breath caught as his eyes swiveled to Parker's disheveled curls. 'I'll do everything I can,' he vowed.

* * *

Ginny's head throbbed. She was as tired as well, from the fake smile she'd plastered on her face all afternoon. She had walked in on another conversation between _them_ again. They had all schooled their expressions to something resembling smooth neutrality. Harry had mouthed, 'Tomorrow,' at Ron and Hermione, as he took his coat from Ginny. As soon as they had Apparated home, Ginny busied herself with James, letting him spend some time on his toy broom, before giving him a bath.

She kneeled next to the tub, scrubbing the accumulated grime from a day at the Burrow from his face and hands. Harry had been distracted all day with something, but he kept brushing off her inquiries with a distracted "fine". Ginny handed James a few wooden spoons and bowls so he could spend a few minutes playing in the bubbles. She smiled fleetingly at his antics. She sat back, leaning against the wall, trying to figure out what Harry had been talking about with everyone else. _Funny_, she mused. _He talked to everyone today, but me._

Ginny racked her brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Was he still angry at her from last night? She had apologized numerous times last night, and he kept telling her it was fine, but was it? Was it something else? 'Mummmmmeeeee!' James sang. Ginny looked up from her entwined fingers. He was festooned with bubbles. Ginny had charmed them to randomly change colors. 'I's like Teddeee,' he crowed.

'Yes, you are,' she told him, before she lifted him from the tub, and wrapped him into a fluffy towel. James giggled as she dried his hair, making it stick up wildly around his head. It always struck her how much James looked like Harry sometimes. 'You're going to have a baby brother or sister,' she said, nuzzling his hair, bundling James into the towel.

'Baby?' he repeated, perplexed. 'W'ere baby?'

Ginny touched her still-flat stomach. 'In here.'

James kneaded Ginny's stomach, trying to feel the baby. 'Hi, baybeee!' he shouted, his face an inch away from Ginny's navel.

'He can't hear you yet, silly boy,' Ginny said. 'Go on to your room.' James scampered out of the bathroom, leaving the towel in a wet heap in his wake. Ginny pushed herself to her feet. She heard Harry intercept James outside their bedroom.

'Nice outfit,' Harry commented, as James raced by.

'Dahdee,' James began earnestly. 'D'ere's baybee in Mummy,' he announced.

'There is?' Harry picked up James, and held him upside down as he carried him into his bedroom.

'Uh-huh.' James nodded vigorously.

Harry pulled a pair of pajamas, decorated with the Cannons logo from a cupboard, and began to dress James. He sat with James in his lap in the overstuffed chair they'd put in the room, when they'd taken the rocking chair out. 'How about "The Tale of Benjamin Bunny" tonight?' James sat quietly; drowsing against Harry's chest, the vibrations of Harry's reading making him fall asleep before the story was over.

Harry finished the story. It had been one of his favorites as a child. He placed the book on top of the shelf and his arms tightened around his sleeping son. Ginny stood in the doorway. 'Want me to take him?' she asked softly, so as not to wake James.

Harry shook his head. He stood and carefully placed James in the cot. James immediately flopped on his back, his arms and legs splayed across the mattress.

He closed the door to James' room, and began to go downstairs. He needed to draw up a plan for how he wanted to pursue the case. The last thing he wanted was to go to Kingsley with nothing but a few insane letters. 'Harry?' Ginny's soft voice stopped him. The hint of distress in it made him realize he'd barely said two words to her all day. 'What's going on?'

Harry closed his eyes briefly. 'I can't tell you,' he said miserably.

* * *

AN: Sorry it took so long to get something up. It's been a crazy week here. 


	4. One Bad Day Deserves Another

Ginny slid out of bed before anyone else was awake. She pulled on her dressing gown, cinching it tightly around her waist, and ran her fingers through her hair, wincing as her fingers pulled at the knots and snarls. She slipped into the bathroom, and perched on the edge of the bathtub, her hairbrush clutched in her cold fingers. Ginny worked the bristles through the tangles, her movements slow and deliberate. She ran an experimental hand through her hair, checking for snarls. The tangles gone, she wound her hair into a knot, not wanting to deal with washing it today. She quickly showered and dressed, needing to reach her destination before it got too late. Ginny tiptoed to the bed, and picked up her wand, shoving it into the pocket of her trousers. She padded down the stairs, stopped long enough to put her boots on, and grabbed her coat by the kitchen door.

She Disapparated as soon as her booted feet cleared the back door.

It was early. Not yet eight in the morning. Few people would be at the Ministry, but she knew Hermione would be in her office. Hermione always came in early to get some work done before everyone else came in.

Ginny used the visitor's entrance and pinned the badge of to coat lapel. She punched the lift button, with a serenity that reminded her of the night she confronted the Dursleys. That frightened her. It was one of the few times Ginny could remember being truly furious.

Today seemed to be one of those times.

She'd spent the better part of the night tossing restlessly, seeing Harry's face close as he told her, 'I can't tell you.' Seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione with their heads together reminded Ginny unpleasantly of the weeks before her sixth year of school, when the three of them spent every spare moment away from Molly's anxious eyes, furtively planning their quest. She had felt horribly left out then, too. The following summer, Harry had said it had been for her own protection. Ginny didn't like it then, and she really hated it now. Knowing the three of them were doing it again made her stomach churn with something that had nothing to do with her pregnancy.

Ginny strode down the corridor to Hermione's office and peeked through the open door. Hermione was already hard at work, poring over several dusty law tomes, a precarious stack of parchment next to her elbow. 'Hermione?'

Hermione looked up with an irritated expression at being interrupted, but her face softened when she saw Ginny. 'Morning, Gin.' She didn't seem surprised to see Ginny there.

Ginny fidgeted with the clasp of her bag. 'Yesterday…' Ginny hesitated. 'What was that about?'

Hermione struggled to her feet and pulled Ginny into the office. She closed the door and took one of Ginny's clenched fists. 'I wanted to tell you, Gin,' Hermione said earnestly. 'I do, but – ' Hermione bit her lip. 'Harry made me promise not to tell you.'

'What did he do? Make you take an Unbreakable Vow?' Ginny asked sarcastically.

'Not quite. But I haven't seen him this worried in a long time, Ginny.' Ginny pointedly looked away. 'He's not trying to shut you out. He just wants to keep you safe.'

'Because that worked so well the last time,' Ginny retorted.

'Gin…' Hermione laid a hand on Ginny's shoulder. 'I know you can take care of yourself. He knows it, too.'

'He's not acting like it.'

'For what it's worth, I think he's wrong to not say anything to you.'

Ginny shrugged and pinched the bridge of her nose to keep the tears that suddenly gathered in her eyes from falling. 'I have to go.'

'Ginny, wait.' Hermione grabbed her hand. 'Don't be angry at him.'

'I'm not angry.' Ginny pulled her hand from Hermione's grasp. _Just disappointed and hurt._ 'I'll see you later.' Ginny walked out of the room and blindly made her way to the lifts. People had started to trickle in and she waited patiently for a Floo connection to clear, so she could go to the _Prophet_ office. She had an article to write, previewing the upcoming match between the Harpies and Puddlemere.

When it was Ginny's turn to use the fireplace, she ducked to the side, and went to the exit that would take her to the street. She was seized by a sudden desire to walk.

Ginny stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, her head bent against the wind. She saw a window from the corner of her eye. _Jeff's_ was stenciled on the glass. It was a Muggle hair salon. Ginny pushed a strand of hair from her eyes, examining her reflection in the window. She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. The salon opened at ten. It was barely eight-thirty. Ginny ran a hand through her hair, considering. She knew both the Harpies and Puddlemere very, very well. It was an article she could write blindfolded. Ginny looked at her reflection once more, nodding, coming to a decision. She spun on her heel, and ran to the _Prophet_ office.

* * *

Ginny scrawled the last sentence of her article and all but ran to the new editor's desk. Flanagan had mercifully left the _Prophet_ to work for _Quidditch Quarterly_ at the end of last year. Eleanor Selwyn, who had been the senior reporter, took over his duties as Quidditch editor. She was just as exacting as Flanagan had been, but much less abrasive. Ginny handed Eleanor the sheaf of parchment. 'Eleanor? Do you mind if I go run an errand while you look over that?' 

'How long will it take?' Eleanor looked at Ginny over the rims of her reading glasses.

'An hour or so.'

'I'll have this on your desk when you get back, then.'

'Thanks.' Ginny quickly walked to her desk, and rummaged in her bag for her pocketbook. She grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and left.

Minutes later, Ginny found herself swathed in a smock, with Jeff himself running his hands through her hair. Jeff, it turned out, looked like a reject from the Weird Sisters, and was as an American married to a woman from Maidstone. But he seemed to be a nice enough man. 'So what do you want to do?' Jeff asked.

'Cut it.'

'How much?'

Ginny took a deep breath. 'A lot.' It was currently past her waist, the ends just brushing the small of her back.

Jeff held the edge of a comb just above Ginny's elbow. 'Here?'

'Shorter.'

Jeff moved the comb halfway to her shoulder. 'Here?'

'Shorter.' Ginny smiled slightly. It reminded her of the scene in _Roman Holiday_ when the runaway princess cut her hair. The comb moved up to her shoulder. 'More.' Jeff's eyebrows rose higher. The comb unwaveringly inched to Ginny's collarbone. 'Just a bit more.' The comb came to rest halfway between Ginny's chin and the base of her neck. 'There,' she pronounced.

'Are you sure?' Jeff eyed the length of hair he was going to cut.

'I have a sixteen-month old son at home. I'm sure.' Still, once he had shampooed her hair, Ginny's eyes closed tightly before Jeff could make the first cut.

'Why don't I just turn you around?' Jeff slowly swiveled the chair around so Ginny couldn't see him cutting her hair in the mirror. Nevertheless, Ginny gasped softly as she saw the long, coppery strands of hair slide to the black and white tile floor with each snip of Jeff's scissors. She transferred her gaze to her lap, and tried very hard to ignore the tickle of the air currents on the back of her neck.

'You all right?' Jeff's concerned drawl intruded into Ginny's thoughts.

'Yeah. I've just had it long for years.' Ginny let out a shaky breath. 'It's just hair. It'll grow back if I don't like it.'

Jeff laughed softly. 'I wish more ladies had that kind of thought process.' He ruffled Ginny's shorn locks. 'How do you like it?' he asked, spinning Ginny around to face the mirror once more.

Ginny studied her appearance in the mirror. 'It's…' She felt tears sting her eyes. 'My husband, he'll be… Surprised.'

'You don't like it?' Jeff's voice held a slightly anxious note.

'I do!' Ginny exclaimed. She did. It made her looked different. Not older, really, but different. Tears clung to her eyelashes.

Jeff handed her a tissue. 'Why the tears, then?'

Ginny sniffed. 'Hormones.'

* * *

Harry knew when Ginny got up and left. He knew she hadn't slept any better than he had. He also knew what Ginny must be thinking. 

Harry heard James babbling in his cot. He figured he had a good half hour before James became restless, so he dashed through a shower and threw some clothes on. Harry walked into James' room and smiled at his son. James was standing, clinging to the top rail of the cot, bouncing with glee. 'Morning, James.'

'Dahdee!' James held up his hands, and Harry swung him out of the cot, noisily kissing his round cheek. James' dark blue eyes searched over Harry's shoulder for Ginny. 'W'ere Mummy?' he demanded.

'She's not here.' Harry already felt worn out.

'Wan' Mummy,' James said mulishly.

'Well, I'll just have to do this morning, eh?' Harry informed his son. James didn't wake up in the best of moods, and he seemed to have picked up on his father's ill temper. He began fussing as soon as Harry tried to dress him for the day.

Harry plopped James into his chair at the table and reached for a box of Owl Os on the counter. He dropped a handful of cereal on the table and sliced a banana into a bowl for James. He filled the teakettle and tapped it with his wand. Steam wafted from the spout, and Harry quickly made himself a cup of tea, sighing in bliss as the liquid slid down his throat. He leaned against the counter, trying to figure out what to do with James for the day. Normally, Ginny worked from the house, and went to the office for a few hours each week. If Ginny had to work at the office, Harry would work from home, or even take James with him to the Ministry. The witches who worked in the Muggle Worthy Excuse office could somehow smell the trail of half-chewed ginger biscuits and talcum powder, and were more than willing to baby-sit for a few hours, if needed.

That wouldn't do today. Harry had no idea how late he might be at the Ministry. He made a mental note to talk to Shacklebolt someday about setting up a childcare room at the Ministry for its employees. He sighed and picked up James' coat from its hook by the door. 'James, you want to go see Grandmum?' James shoved the last banana slice into his mouth and nodded. Harry quickly wiped the sticky banana goo from James' mouth and hands, and managed to put James into his coat, then Apparated them both to the Burrow. Harry went back to the house and went into his office, and picked the letter up from his desk. He Flooed to the Ministry and went straight up to the Minister's offices.

Harry went to Percy's desk. 'Hey Perce.'

'Morning, Harry.' Percy didn't waste time with speech for once. He silently opened his desk, and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. He handed it to Harry with an expression of revulsion on his face. Harry nodded and went to the door that led to Shacklebolt's office, and knocked.

'Come in.'

Harry opened the door and strode inside, stopping when he saw another person already in the office. The man resembled Shacklebolt, save for the head of close-cropped hair. 'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had someone in. I'll come back later.'

'Harry, come in. This is my brother, Gareth. Teaches Defense at the Salem Institute in San Francisco. Gareth, Harry Potter.'

Gareth Shacklebolt rose to his feet and crossed the room to greet Harry. 'Pleased to meet you. Kingsley speaks very highly of you.'

'Nice to meet you.' Harry shook Gareth's hand.

'Gareth's here until the Easter holiday to observe at Hogwarts and Beauxbatons.'

'Oh. Watch out for Peeves. He's the Hogwarts poltergeist,' Harry advised.

'Thanks. I'll make sure to tell that to Rafa.'

'Rafa's also a teacher at Salem. Does Muggle Studies, and teaches N.E.W.T.-level Defense with Gareth. Also does a class of beginning Arithmancy,' added Shacklebolt.

'Whatever they're telling you, it's lies.' An olive-skinned man with black hair and eyes sauntered into the room. 'Rafael Moreno,' he said, introducing himself to Harry. 'Salem Institute, San Francisco, but I'm really from Santa Fe, New Mexico.'

'Harry Potter.' Harry looked at Shacklebolt. 'I'll come back later.'

Shacklebolt looked closely at Harry. He'd seen a lot of moods on Harry's face over their ten-year friendship, and he could see the faint strain behind the blandly smooth exterior. 'No, we can talk now.' He motioned to a chair. 'Gareth, Rafa, I'll see you at lunch.' Gareth and Rafa left hand-in-hand, and Shacklebolt closed the door. 'What's the problem, then?'

'This.' Harry pulled out the letters that had been sent to Hermione and Percy and handed them to Shacklebolt.

Shacklebolt's eyes widened as he read the letters. 'Why aren't you taking this to Gibson?'

Harry hunched his shoulders. 'She won't bother to investigate. Or she'll halfway look into it or palm it off to someone else who won't do it thoroughly.'

Shacklebolt nodded. He was well aware of the Gibson's shortcomings as Head Auror. 'You want to lead this one, don't you?'

'Yes.'

'What do you know so far?'

'Not much,' Harry admitted. 'They just show up. Have been for about six weeks. I just found out about this Saturday.'

'Owls bringing them?'

'Not that Percy or Hermione can tell.' He took the letters back. 'I'm going to arrange for surveillance on Percy and Hermione's homes. There are some trainees who are really good at that sort of thing. I'll get that set up as soon as I get to the Auror offices.

'That's fine.'

'Thanks.'

Harry headed to Level Two, plans already forming in his mind. He stopped by the large room where the Auror trainees had lessons, worked on cases with Aurors, and practiced some of the more common charms, hexes, and jinxes they would use in the field. Harry knew all of the trainees, having worked with them at Hogwarts their seventh year, so they could have a means of assessment beyond N.E.W.T scores. There were eight of them in the room. Harry walked into the room, and closed the door. He cast several Silencing and Anti-Eavesdropping charms on the door and around the room, with no more effort than he had once put into _Expelliarmus_.

Harry wanted to use the trainees simply because he believed in making sure they received as much on-the-job training as possible. Surveillance was one of the best ways to teach them stealth and disguise. They had to make it as unobtrusive as possible, and be able to observe anything that might be unusual. Plus, Hermione and Percy lived in Muggle areas of London, so they had to be even more careful.

Harry sat at the round table without preamble and looked at each of the faces in front of him. _Was I ever that young?_ he thought. Eric, Lucy, and Benjamin were in their first year of training, less than a year out of school. Moira, Iain, Kathleen, and Andre were in the second year, and Brianna and Kevin were the only third years. 'Bree, I need you to keep an eye on Mrs. Granger-Weasley while she's here. That means that you will follow her everywhere she goes. Even if she goes to the loo.' Brianna raised a dark blonde eyebrow, but said nothing. 'The rest of you need to take turns watching Percy Weasley's flat, as well as the Granger-Weasley flat.' Harry could feel a chill settle in this stomach. Referring to his family members by their last names gave him a sense of detachment he was going to sorely need until they solved this. 'I don't care how you do it, alone or in pairs, but someone needs to watch their flats at all times.' Harry noticed the glances the other trainees gave each other, but they nodded in agreement. 'I want a schedule of when you will be there before lunch. It needs to be charmed so that if someone needs to switch a shift, the parchment I have will signal that. I assume you can all do a Protean Charm?' The trainees all looked at Brianna.

She spoke for all of them. 'Everyone but Eric and Kathleen can do one successfully all the time. But they just need some practice.'

'Good. I want you to start your surveillance as soon as you can. Preferably tonight.' Nods of assent all around. Harry laid the letters on the table. 'Now then, what can you tell me about these?'

Moira Summoned one of the letters, and snorted sardonically. 'It looks like they've been reading too many bad Muggle mystery novels.' She ran a fingernail around the edge of one of the letters trying to pry it off. 'Looks like a Permanent Sticking charm, too.'

Iain picked up the other letter. 'The cutouts are all from magazines and not newspapers,' he commented, as he tilted the parchment toward the light. 'See? The cutouts have that slick texture from magazine paper.' He ran a fingertip slowly over the letters, rather like a blind Muggle reading Braille. 'They come from different mags, though.'

'How can you tell that?' asked Lucy, running an experimental finger over the paper.

'_Quidditch Quarterly_ uses thicker paper than say, _Witch Weekly_,' said Andre. '_Transfiguration Today_ has a sort of texture to its paper.' He shrugged, grinning weakly. 'My mum and dad read everything. Even Muggle mags.'

'Could be any mag, though,' pointed out Eric. 'But judging by the content of the letters, they're using wizarding mags.'

Kathleen took a letter from Moira, and examined it impassively. Harry leaned forward expectantly. Kathleen didn't say much as a general rule, unless she had something significant to add, a quality Harry appreciated. 'They could be using Muggle magazines to throw us off,' she said quietly. 'It's what most Slytherins I know would do.' The others looked at Kathleen in surprise. They tended to forget she had been Sorted into Slytherin at school, but mostly because she had the crafty kind of mind that would be well served in Slytherin, rather than any particular attitude toward blood status. She was an asset to the Aurors because of it.

'Right.' Harry sighed.

He sent Brianna to tail Hermione and set the others to the task of making their schedule. Kevin made copies for everyone, including Brianna, and put Protean charms on them all. 'That way we'll all know if someone's had to switch,' he explained. 'The D.A. and those coins are still the stuff of legend at Hogwarts, you know.' Kevin pointed to the schedule. 'We've got Andre going to Mr. Weasley's place and Lucy to Mrs. Granger-Weasley's after lunch.'

'Good. This would be a good time to practice Disillusionment charms and communicating with your Patronus, if you can make one.' The trainees moved to the other side of the room, where a large space was marked on the floor to practice their charm work. Harry ignored the noise and began to make a list of questions for Percy and Hermione, as well as a list of any potential enemies. It was depressingly long.

* * *

Harry's head was pounding when he got home. All he wanted was a stiff drink, and a hot bath – in that order. He was also primed to snap at someone – anyone, given how tense his whole day had been. Harry opened the back door of the house, coming to a dead stop when he saw Ginny setting the table for dinner. 'What the bloody hell did you do to your hair?' he hissed. 

Ginny's head snapped up, and her face flushed with anger. 'I cut it,' she replied coldly.

'Obviously,' spat Harry. 'Why?'

Ginny shrugged. 'I felt like it.'

Strangely, it made Harry want to weep. He loved Ginny's hair. He reached out and slid a lock between his thumb and forefinger. As long as he'd known Ginny, her hair had always been long. He could still see it trailing in the dirty water and of the Chamber, and being irrationally annoyed in Dumbledore's office as he watched Ginny sob into Arthur's shoulder, that the ends were caked with ink. He had wanted to scrub the evidence of the diary from her hair right then and there. He looked down at her face. The shorter hair made her eyes seem bigger. 'It's fine, Gin,' he said hoarsely. 'Just wasn't expecting it.' He ran his fingers though her hair. It was even wavier than it had been before. 'I've never seen it this short before,' he said lamely.

Harry sighed and wrapped his arms around Ginny. 'I'm sorry. It's been a rough day.'

Ginny stiffened and struggled to refrain from asking why it had been so bad. She didn't want to see that shuttered expression on his face, nor hear his evasive answers. She just wanted to put the day behind her.


	5. Read Between the Lines

Kathleen sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position. She was in the garden behind Ron and Hermione's flat. She reapplied the Warming charm to her socks and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She saw the shrubbery by the building rustle, but it was a windy day. Kathleen never saw the woman who appeared out of nowhere on the stairwell.

* * *

Andre was in the hallway outside the door of the flat under a Disillusionment charm. He jumped up when he saw the letter zoom up the stairs and land neatly on the doormat. He crept to the stairs and silently went down them. He didn't see anybody. He went back to the doormat and picked up the letter. Andre put it in his pocket, so when they all met at the end of their shift to make the report for Harry, he could add it to the rest of the paperwork.

* * *

She waited in the shadows until she saw the faint distortion that was a witch or wizard under a Disillusionment charm vanish back up the stairs. She knew eventually, the Aurors would start watching the flat. But they had been careful. Nobody knew her secret. _Well, nobody important_, she sneered to herself. She slipped out the back door, avoiding the notice of the witch in the back garden. When she had put enough distance between herself and the building, she Disapparated.

* * *

Harry looked over the notes the trainees had sent him earlier that afternoon. They had intercepted another note from Ron and Hermione's flat. It was more of the same threats, but so far, it was just that. Threats. Whoever this was hadn't done anything else. Just sent these bloody notes. Harry was nearly tempted to take Hermione's attitude and just ignore it, but whoever this was had gone to an awful lot of trouble to stay anonymous. And while it was one thing to attack Percy or Hermione – involved as they were in trying to upend centuries of convention – it was quite another to threaten Penny, Parker, or Hermione's unborn child. That was sick and twisted in a way Harry hadn't seen since the fall of Riddle. That alone kept Harry from chalking the whole thing to some nutter who didn't like change. There certainly were several people who had written letters to the opinion page of the _Prophet_ about the plans Hermione had for standardizing treatment for house-elves. But none of them had been threatening – just the usual complaints about how the Ministry was going downhill for allowing this to happen. Harry had gone to the _Prophet_ himself to speak with the editor. They hadn't received any letters like the ones in this file. Peter Manderly, the editor, had assured Harry if they had received anything of that ilk, the Ministry would have been notified immediately.

Harry pulled the most recent note out of from under the pile of parchment from the trainees. Like the others, the words were made up of letters cut from magazines, stuck to the parchment. Harry tried to pry one off, but like the others, it was attached with a Permanent Sticking charm. He stared at the note, hoping something would stand out and the answer would just show up. 'Like magic,' he snorted ironically. Harry was starting to get a feeling they might have to wait until this person – or people – cocked something up. Most of these types eventually did. Hubris, mostly.

It was quiet in the house. Ginny had put James to bed an hour ago and stayed upstairs to take a bath. The past week had taken a toll on both of them, but especially Ginny. It didn't help that both of them were in stroppy moods between people threatening to kill family members, and Ginny's first trimester wasn't exactly a smooth ride for either of them. She was sick all the time with this one. With James, once her day got going, she was fine for the most part, but this one was making her nauseated all day. Plus, his rather ungracious initial reaction to her hair cut and the way he was being so tight-lipped about this case around Ginny wasn't helping. He had never been this quiet about a case in the last eight years he'd been an Auror around Ginny. He wanted to tell her. His stomach twisted in knots when he thought about how he had shut her out. He'd all but slammed a door in her face last Sunday evening. Even Ron, who would normally back him up in this, felt Harry's decision to keep Ginny out of the loop was wrong.

* * *

_Harry trudged to the shop for lunch. The shop was empty and silent. Neither George, nor Ron was in the back room. He went up to the flat and found Ron alone in the tiny kitchen, dishing up two bowls of stew. 'Hey. Where's George?'_

_Ron handed Harry a bowl and spoon, and then took a seat at the table with his own lunch. 'At home with Katie and the boys. Both of the twins are sick.' Harry grunted in sympathy. James had a terrible cold right after Christmas. He and Ginny had been up for nearly three days, taking turns with him. James got more than a bit cranky when he wasn't feeling well._

_Ron stirred his stew a few times. 'Harry, can I be frank with you?'_

'_You always have been before.' Harry dipped his spoon into his bowl._

'_It's about Ginny.'_

_Harry stiffened. 'What about Ginny?'_

'_Is she feeling all right? She didn't look very good Sunday.'_

'_She's fine,' Harry said noncommittally._

'_Are you going to tell her? About the notes? Hermione and I reckon you should.'_

_Harry shifted uncomfortably on his chair. 'I was going to.'_

'_When?'_

'_Later.'_

'_How much later?'_

'_Later, all right? Jeez, Ron, lay off me, will you?'_

_Ron picked at his lunch. 'Harry, I don't want to interfere, but… Ginny, she sees the three of us with our heads together and she's going to feel left out.' Ron tore a slice of bread to pieces. 'You haven't done that to her since we were… Making plans before Bill and Fleur's wedding.' Even after all these years, Ron still couldn't say it._

'_I know.' Harry shoved his bowl away irritably. 'I just can't. Not yet.'_

'_Is it worth it? What it's doing to you and Gin?'_

'_I can't make her a target!' Harry shouted. He pushed his chair away from the table and paced around the sitting room angrily._

'_She already is one, mate.' Ron's quiet words fell like raindrops into the silence. 'Even you've said it. Everyone in this family is a target for these nutters. And just because she's your wife. Even if the people getting these barmy notes weren't relatives, she'd still be a target.' Ron paused. 'She can take care of herself, you know.'_

_Harry's eyes closed. 'I know. But it's not just her. If something were to happen to her…'_

_Ron got up and stood next to Harry. He put an arm around Harry's shoulders. 'I know.'_

* * *

Harry put the pile of parchment back into its file and threw it in his desk drawer, locking it when it closed. He needed to talk to Ginny. The quasi-silent treatment was giving him headaches.

He walked up the stairs, each step echoing loudly in his ears, even though they were muffled by the carpet runner. He knew he'd been hurting Ginny, but once he'd closed the door on her; so to speak, it had snowballed out of control. 

Harry stopped to check on James. He was sprawled across the cot, sleeping soundly, clutching his battered stuffed black dog. Harry bent over the cot and kissed his sleeping son's flushed cheek. He left the room and partially closed the door. Harry pushed open the door to his and Ginny's bedroom. She was lying in bed, reading one of his Muggle novels. 'What'cha reading?' he asked, keeping the tone of their conversation light and superficial, like it had been all week.

Ginny turned the front cover over. 'Oh, uh… _Sense and Sensibility_.'

'I liked that one.' Harry had read it when she was pregnant with James.

'It's all right so far. Just started it. I'd like to slap that sister-in-law of theirs, though.'

Harry fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, searching for something to say. 'Long game last night.'

'Yeah, it was.' Ginny's eyes dropped back to her book. 'Got to be a bit boring, really. The Harpies killed the Cannons.' She chuckled. 'Poor Ron. They ought to make a mercy rule for those poor sods.' She grew silent as the book claimed her attention again.

Harry sighed and crossed the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the armchair, and unlaced his boots. He wrinkled his nose in frustration. It had been years since he'd been this tongue-tied around Ginny. 'Gin, can we talk?'

Ginny looked up, surprised. 'That doesn't sound good,' she observed.

Harry walked to the foot of the bed, and wrapped his hands around one of the bedposts and leaned against it. 'Do you trust me?'

'What kind of question is that?'

'Do you trust me?' he repeated, his voice soft, but the level of intensity was unmistakable.

Ginny slowly closed the book, and traced the letters of the title, thinking. 'Yes,' she said, her voice just as quiet and intense as his.

Harry's shoulders slumped in relief. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak just now. He wasn't expecting the next words to come from Ginny's mouth. 'Do you trust me?' she asked, looking down at the book cover, her hair swinging forward to hide her face.

'Of course I do!' he exclaimed, stung.

'Then why won't you tell me what's going on?' she asked evenly. 'I know there's something. You haven't shut me out this badly since we were in school.'

Harry lowered himself to the foot of the bed. 'I can't tell you everything.'

'But you can tell Ron and Hermione?' she spat scathingly.

'Yes. Because it involves them.' Harry clenched his hands into fists. He hated conflict and he loathed fighting with Ginny. 'Ginny, please,' he beseeched her. 'Someone's threatening Hermione. Percy, too.' Ginny's mouth dropped open. 'And that's all I can tell you right now,' he added quickly, before she could say anything. 'When it's over, I promise, Ginny, I will tell you everything, like I always have.' He was going to say more, but he heard James snuffling. 'I'll go,' he said, when Ginny started to get up.

Harry went into James' room. James was sitting up in his cot, whimpering, but he hadn't gone into all-out crying yet. 'Hey, mate,' Harry crooned. He lifted James from the cot and cuddled him.

'Dahdee,' James sleepily rubbed his face in Harry's shirt.

'Bad dream, James? It's okay. Daddy knows all about bad dreams.' Harry patted James' back, talking softly. 'Thank Merlin; yours are just dreams, though. They can't hurt you.' Harry slowly rubbed James' back until he relaxed back into sleep. Harry continued to hold James for a few more minutes, then carefully laid him back into the cot. Harry tucked the stuffed dog next to James, then spread the blanket over him

He went back into his bedroom. Ginny was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. 'I don't completely understand why. Ginny spoke to the ceiling. 'I don't like it. In fact, I hate it. But you're going to do what you think you have to do. And right now, I have to accept that.' _Because I know I can't win this one._

'Ginny, if there was any other way to do this…'

'It's done, all right?' Ginny interrupted. 'Is James okay?'

'He's fine. Just a dream.' Harry sat next to Ginny. 'Are you happy? About the baby?' His hand rested over her stomach.

Ginny laid one of her hands on top of Harry's. 'Yeah, I am. Doesn't really seem like it though, does it?'

'Bad timing,' Harry shrugged.

Ginny snorted. 'Just a little.' She brought his hand to her mouth and turned it over, pressing a kiss to the palm. 'Really, I'm happy about it. It was just something of a surprise.'

Harry slid his fingers through Ginny's hair. 'I'm sorry about the way I reacted to your hair.' He twirled a lock of her thick, wavy hair around his finger. 'Why'd you do it?'

'I don't know,' Ginny confessed. 'It was kind of an impulse. The idea of having another baby, and James isn't two yet, and wanting something a little more practical.' She took a deep breath. 'And not wanting to be Gin-Gin anymore.'

'Gin-Gin?' Harry looked at Ginny quizzically. Gin-Gin was something her brothers called her. He had always thought it was an affectionate pet name.

'Yeah. My hair's always been long, and it was making me feel like I was eleven years old again. The baby of the family. The one nobody tells anything to,' she said pointedly, looking at him.

'I didn't mean to make you feel that way,' Harry told her. 'I know you can take care of yourself.'

'One day, you're going to have to do something about that saving people thing of yours.' Ginny ran a hand through her hair. 'I just wanted something different.'

Harry looked down at her. It was still something of a shock to see her hair fanned around her head on the pillow, and not bound into a loose plait. 'It looks good on you shorter. I like it.'

'Thanks.' Ginny gave him a wan smile.

'I'm sorry, Gin. About the whole week.'

Ginny shrugged. 'This isn't a fairy tale. Or one of my fluff Muggle novels, no matter how much the society page of _Witch Weekly_ wants to believe.' Ginny curled up on her side. 'G'night, Harry.'

Harry watched her for a few minutes before he got up and went into the bathroom to shower. Ginny quietly sighed in relief. She just wanted to forget the whole week had ever happened. She put her hand over her stomach. 'Hi there, little one. I hope you're not getting the wrong idea. We both love you, your dad and me. Your brother James… Well, you won't be his favorite person for a while. But he'll get over it. Maybe by the time you finish school.'

* * *

The next day at lunch, Ginny walked into the Burrow, with James on her hip. The chatter dwindled to a stop as everyone got their first look at her hair. 'What'd you do, Gin? Get in the way of a Severing charm?' Charlie teased.

'Back off, Charlie,' she muttered, kneeling on the floor to take off James' coat.

'I think it looks great, Ginny,' called Katie. She elbowed George sharply in the ribs. 'Doesn't it, George?' she added, giving him a narrow-eyed look.

'Yeah, it's spiffing, Gin-Gin.' George nodded vigorously.

'Don't call me Gin-Gin,' Ginny said mutinously.

George blinked. 'Uh, okay.' He looked at Katie. 'Who pissed on her Cheerios?' he grumbled.

Harry sat next to George on the sofa. 'Don't ask,' he advised.

'What did you do?' Charlie called from across the room.

'Who says I did something?'

'Harry didn't do anything,' sighed Ginny. 'Merlin's pants, Charlie, I'm twenty-four. Can you blame me if I don't want to be called Gin-Gin?'

'I guess not.' Charlie took a quick swig of his butterbeer before he could say anything else.

'And while we're on that topic, if I want to cut most of my hair off, I'll cut my bloody hair, all right?' She sent a withering glare at her brothers and went into the kitchen, muttering under her breath.

'Somezing wrong, Ginny?' Fleur asked.

'Oh, the usual. My idiotic brothers are all gits.'

'Ah.' Fleur held up a hand. 'Say no more.'

Molly maneuvered things so she was standing next to Ginny. 'How are you feeling, dear?'

'I'm fine. Just tired.'

'Still planning on keeping things quiet until after…?' Molly tilted her head toward Ron, who was stirring a sauce on the stove.

'Yeah.'

Molly looked at Ginny. 'Are you sure?'

'I'm sure, Mum.'

* * *

Ginny set James in a booster seat between her and Harry. James was being unusually fractious today. He was normally a good-natured child, if a bit rambunctious. Charlie caught James' attention, and started to play, "Who's That?" – a game they had made up when Teddy was a baby to help him learn everybody's name. It wasn't a bad idea, especially since the family kept growing as it did.

Charlie started with Teddy, Victoire, Isabella, Parker, and Maddie. 'Okay, James, who's that?' Charlie asked, pointing to Bronwyn.

'Ahn' B'rwyn,' James dutifully replied. 

'And that?' Charlie pointed to Harry.

'Dahdee!' James crowed in delight.

'And that?' Charlie indicated Arthur.

'Gandahd.'

'Who's that?' Charlie's finger moved in Molly's direction.

'Ganmum.'

Charlie pointed to Ginny. 'Who's that?'

'Mummy!' James leaned to the side and patted Ginny on the stomach. 'Baybee,' he added.

Charlie laughed. 'No, James. There's the baby,' he corrected, pointing to Hermione.

James frowned. His head twisted to look up at Charlie. He patted Ginny again. 'Baybee,' he repeated. James leaned closer to Ginny's middle. 'Hi, baybee,' he sang.

Charlie looked from James to Ginny, and back to James. He got up from his chair and came to crouch next to Ginny. 'Who's this?' he asked James, his hand hovering a hair's breadth over Ginny's stomach. 

'Baybee,' pronounced James. 'D'ere baybee in Mummy.'

Bill paused in the act of dishing roast potatoes on his plate. 'Is that true, Ginny?'

Ginny looked down at her son, who was beaming, chanting, 'Baybee, baybee,' softly, while everyone else gazed at her.

Ginny nodded. She looked down the table at Hermione, and mouthed, 'I'm sorry…' her eyes filling with tears. 'I wanted to wait until you…'

Hermione smiled at her in return. 'It's wonderful news, Gin.' She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. 'When?'

Harry cleared his throat. 'Early August.' He reached for Ginny's hand.

'Hey, he'll be in the same year as ours!' Ron exclaimed.

'Or she,' Hermione reminded Ron.

'Yeah, whatever,' he said, waving off the possibility that either theirs, or Harry and Ginny's child, would be a girl.

The talk around the table swirled around Harry and Ginny. Harry looked at Ginny, and grinned apologetically. 'I guess that's done.'

Ginny have a half-laugh. 'It's what I get for telling James.'

He gently squeezed her hand. 'Are we okay?'

'Yeah, we're okay.'

* * *

A/N: Gah. The ending was pretty tough to write. It just wouldn't come out right. This whole chapter was unusually hard for me to write, but I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations. 


	6. Left Behind

It was early. Not yet sunrise. Harry didn't know how early, so he shoved his glasses on his nose and squinted at the alarm clock. It wasn't yet five-thirty. He rolled over to discover Ginny's side of the bed was empty. A thin band of light shone from under the bathroom door, but Harry knew she was in there, even if he couldn't hear anything. He cautiously opened the door, and found Ginny draped over the toilet. She was moaning softly, strands of hair pasted to her sweaty face. He didn't remember her being sick like this with James. 'This can't be normal,' he observed, picking up a face cloth, and turning on the tap at the sink.

'I'm fine,' she said hoarsely, before heaving over the toilet again. 'I have to be fine. The article's due at noon today.'

'Do you think some toast will help?' Harry asked worriedly, wringing out the face cloth.

'Oh, God…' Ginny bent over the toilet again, but nothing came up. 'Don't talk about toa – That,' she said, pressing her lips together tightly.

'Sorry.'

'It's all right.' Ginny leaned back against the side of the tub. She took the wet face cloth Harry handed her, and mopped her clammy face with it. 'I'll be all right in a couple of hours.'

Harry squatted next to Ginny. 'You weren't this bad with James.' He stroked the hair from her face.

'Really, I'm fine.' Ginny pushed herself to her feet and rinsed her mouth. 'I need to get downstairs and finish that article while James is still asleep.' She draped the face cloth over the edge of the sink.

Harry nodded, anxiously wondering if he'd put everything away from the night before. He usually didn't leave anything sitting out overnight, but he'd been a bit distracted lately.

'Go back to bed, Harry.' Ginny swayed on her feet, closing her eyes to stave off a wave of nausea and dizziness. 'James goes down for a nap after lunch. I'll get some sleep then.'

'Are you going to be all right for the game tomorrow?'

'Of course, I will.' Ginny managed to retort with her customary tartness. 'And if not, I'll just have to fake it.' She left Harry in the bathroom and went down into the office, making a detour to the kitchen to grab her bag.

She sat at the desk with a sigh. The article for_ Quidditch Quarterly _was a bid deal for her. They had asked her to write about the abilities of modern female players as compared to the males. It was part of ongoing debate for the year in the magazine about the place female players held in Quidditch. There always had been some who felt Quidditch was too rough for women to play well. Ginny felt most of it came from a sense of sour grapes from failed players – both men and women.

Ginny dug into her bag, pulling out a notebook and a scroll, half-filled with her article. Quidditch, Ginny argued, was not a game of brute strength. Rather it was a game of skill and finesse. Ginny didn't deny it was a physically demanding game. She remembered with vivid clarity the professional games that lasted for hours, leaving the regular players and the reserve players in heaps of exhaustion at the end. There were games played in pouring rain, trying to avoid lightening and games in played in bitter cold that made the Quaffle as hard as a Bludger, and even with Warming charms, left one's hands stiff and numb. Snow. Sleet. Stifling heat and humidity. She also knew what it felt like to have men twice her size attempt to knock her off her broom. Avoiding them was where the skill and agility came into play. Not letting the opposing team's supporters or any of the mind games on the pitch get to you had nothing to do with physical strength. That was all mental.

It was an argument she'd had with Flanagan countless times when he worked at the _Prophet_. Flanagan didn't really approve of women players. Ginny knew from her own days playing, Flanagan had been a Reserve Seeker for Caerphilly for several years, but for most of those years, the Seeker was a very capable woman. When she retired, Flanagan tried out, but lost to another woman.

Ginny often wondered if his stymied Quidditch ambitions colored Flanagan's attitude. He never really got on with most of the staff and he seemed to find an unholy amount of glee in ripping Ginny's articles to shreds, often forcing her to rewrite them numerous times.

Ginny wrote steadily for nearly three hours, reveling in the stillness of the early morning. She didn't mind being able to write from home. Eleanor had been more than generous in letting Ginny come into the office on a part-time basis, but it was getting more and more difficult as James got older. Getting up early, like this morning, was usually her only recourse. Ginny finished the last sentence, and blew on the ink to dry it, massaging the cramp from her hand. She tapped the scroll with her wand, and it rolled itself into a tight cylinder, sealing the edge shut. She stretched and glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. She needed to get it out in a few minutes to get it to London by noon. The earlier nausea had faded to bearable proportions where she didn't want to vomit at the idea of toast. _Toast sounds really good right now_, she thought. Ginny picked up the scroll and headed into the kitchen.

Her owl, Ariel, sat on her perch in the corner, preening her feathers. Ginny stroked the tawny owl's head for a moment. 'This one goes to _Quidditch Quarterly_,' she told the owl, tying the scroll to Ariel's leg. Ginny opened the window and watched Ariel launch herself into the sky.

Harry came into the kitchen with James in his arms. 'Feeling better?' he asked, setting James down in his chair, and pointing his wand at the teakettle. He hadn't been able to go back to sleep after Ginny went downstairs, and was desperate for a cup of tea.

'Yeah. But I think I'll stick to toast this morning.' Ginny gave James a spoon and a cup of strawberry yogurt. 'Are you going to be late tonight?'

'I don't know.' Harry handed Ginny the vial of prenatal potion. 'Don't forget this.'

Ginny wrinkled her nose, but managed to swallow it without gagging. 'Gack. You'd think they'd figure out how to make it taste better.' She stole Harry's tea and took a sip to get rid of the taste of the potion in her mouth.

Harry took the cup back from her, drained it, and kissed Ginny, making a face at the taste of the potion mixed with tea. 'I'll get word to you if I'm going to be at work past six.' He left the house and Disapparated as he passed through the boundary around the house.

* * *

Andre rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had just come off the overnight shift at Percy's house. He held a large paper cup filled with coffee in one hand, his knapsack in the other, as he rode the lift to Level Two. He was meeting Eric to write their report for the overnight surveillance. Iain was sitting at the table in the trainees' room, every magazine published in wizarding Britain and Ireland spread on the long, scarred table. 'Didn't you do the middle shift yesterday?' Andre asked, gulping his coffee.

'Yeah, but I couldn't sleep.' Iain had one of the notes in front of him. I spent the night trying to figure out which mags they used.' He indicated the stack of magazines at his elbow. 'I nicked these from my parents' house.' He rubbed his face. 'I think I've got it narrowed down, though.' Iain shoved a small stack of magazines toward the middle of the table. '_Witch Weekly_, _Transfiguration Today_, _Potent Potions_, _Quidditch Quarterly_, and oddly enough, ­_The Quibbler_.'

'That's an odd collection,' observed Andre.

'Yeah, and it still doesn't really tell us much. Other than they were too lazy to get Muggle mags.' Iain finished the report and handed it to Andre. 'Give this to Harry would you? I'm all done in. I need to get some sleep before I go to Mr. Weasley's this afternoon.'

'How's that going?'

'Nothing unusual.' Iain paused. 'Aside from those notes, that is.'

'I don't get it.' Andre ran his hands through his hair. He pulled the file with their copies of the notes closer. 'Every time, they just show up. The door doesn't open, so they're not under an Invisibility cloak or using Disillusionment charms.'

'And they're not being Banished from outside the building, or we'd see the note before it got to the door.' Iain shoved his chair away from the table. 'Check with Kathleen if you see her later. She might have an idea.' He yawned widely. 'I'll see you later.'

* * *

Ginny picked up James and went though the fireplace to the Burrow. 'Mum?'

'In the scullery, dear!'

'Mum, can you watch James for a bit?' Ginny carried James into the scullery off the kitchen. 'I need to go to Wimbourne and Harry's working on a case.'

'Of course I can.' Molly held her arms out to James, and he half-fell into his grandmother's embrace. 'Does Harry know you've left James with me?'

'Yeah.' Ginny adjusted her bag and leaned over to give James a kiss. 'Bye, sweetie.' She stroked his messy black hair and went back into the sitting room to Floo to the stadium where the Wimbourne Wasps played.

Ginny climbed the stairs to the press box. She was early, but she liked to watch the teams warm up. It gave her an idea of what strategies they might use. She settled into a seat and took a Self-Inking Quill and her notebook from her bag. The weather was lousy – cold and dreary, with intermittent sleet. The press box was protected with Impervious and Warming charms. Reporters were a notoriously cantankerous lot, so the Quidditch teams tried to make the box somewhat comfortable.

Ginny watched the Wasps' Chasers warm up. The weather was making the ball slippery. Ginny closed her eyes and massaged her temples. It was probably going to be a long game. She knew from playing Seeker at school that the Snitch could be harder to find in gloomy weather conditions when the sun didn't glint off its surface.

'Potter.'

Ginny opened her eyes, and stared with frank dislike at Ryan Flanagan. 'Flanagan.' She coolly returned the greeting and went back to watching the Chasers.

'How's the paper?'

'Doing great. We don't even notice you're gone.' Ginny made a few notes in her notebooks, trying to ignore Flanagan.

'You look like hell,' Flanagan said with his usual bluntness.

'Always with the compliments,' Ginny replied dryly, unwilling to give Flanagan an edge. She was not in the mood to spar verbally with him. She was bone-tired and still slightly nauseated.

'Sandwich?' Flanagan opened his bag and pulled out a packet of sandwiches, unwrapping them.

'No, thank you.' Ginny's nose twitched as the pungent scent of corned beef filled the air. She gagged and bolted for the ladies' toilet at the bottom of the stairs.

Ginny returned to the press box, wiping her face on the sleeve of her jumper. Flanagan smirked at her. 'Sprogged up again, are you? You do realize what causes that sort of thing, don't you?' he intoned disdainfully.

Wearily, Ginny picked up her notebook. 'Get stuffed, Flanagan.'

'Oooh. Is that all you can come up with, Potter?' he taunted.

Ginny set her notebook down. 'You are a bitter, impotent, gormless eejit, Flanagan. Talk to me like that again –'

'And what? You'll tell your husband? Set him on me?'

'No, arsehole. I'll take care of you myself.' Ginny pulled her wand from her bag, and she lightly caressed the handle.

'Yeah, right,' Flanagan scoffed. 'Like you could.'

Ginny's fingers tightened on the wand. She was on the verge of hexing Flanagan, but several other reporters came into the box, calling out greetings to Ginny. 'You're a miserable excuse for a human being, Flanagan,' she spat softly, regretfully putting her wand away.

* * *

Ginny Apparated home from the _Prophet_, too tired to deal with the Floo. The game had been long, but not as long as Ginny had thought. The Harpies won by a narrow margin, making Ginny smirk at Flanagan on her way out. She went inside the house, dropping her bag by the door, and toeing off her shoes. She went upstairs, intending to go to bed, but decided to check on James. He was still awake, lying on his back, watching the enchanted ceiling above his cot. He brightened when he saw Ginny. 'Mummy!'

'Hi, James.' Ginny lifted him from the cot, breathing in the scent of his shampoo.

James nestled into Ginny. 'Tory, Mummy?'

'A story? Didn't Daddy read one to you before he put you to bed?' Ginny sank into the armchair.

'Wan' tory,' James insisted.

'All right, then. What story do you want?'

'Pee R'bit.' James reached for the battered book on the shelf next to the chair.

'Again?' Ginny picked up the book and opened it, reading it in a soothing voice.

James was asleep before Ginny finished the story. She closed the book and laid it on the shelf. Ginny didn't put James back into the cot right away. She knew these moments would disappear far too soon. Ginny stroked James' hair. 'I don't regret having you,' she murmured, unsure if she was saying it to James, or to the new baby.

* * *

Ginny didn't know how long she sat there, James in her arms before she fell asleep. Harry had heard Ginny come into the house, and stop in James' room. He waited for her to come to bed, but when she didn't come into the bedroom after some time, he went in search of Ginny. Harry gently lifted James from her grasp and laid him in the cot. He hefted Ginny's into his arms and carried her to bed. 'Harry?' she asked sleepily. 'Why do people think I'm weak?'

Harry pulled Ginny's jumper over her head. 'Who says that?' Weak was not a word he would use to describe Ginny. Ever.

'Flanagan.' Her eyes were dark with sleep.

'He's an arse,' Harry assured her, working her jeans off. 'People think you're so small, you must be helpless or something.' Harry drew the bedclothes up to her shoulders. 'I know better.' Harry slid into bed next to Ginny. She was curled on her side, eyes heavy-lidded with weariness, but resolutely staying awake. 'Gin, you're the strongest person I know.' Her eyelids drifted down and closed. Harry stayed awake for a long time, watching her sleep. He was worried. The last time Ginny had been this tentative and unsure, she was eleven years old. He didn't know how to make it better. She just seemed overwhelmed by it all right now. And if he knew Ginny, she would be the last person to admit she needed help.

* * *

Ginny stirred, prying her eyes open. She stretched and stopped suddenly, lifting the edge of the sheet. She was wearing a t-shirt and her knickers. _That's odd_, she thought. She didn't remember getting into bed last night. The last thing she remembered was reading to James. Ginny looked at the alarm clock on the night table by Harry's side of the bed and her mouth dropped open. It was nearly ten. The weak winter sunshine struggled through the gap in the curtains and lay in limpid stripes on the polished wooden floor.

Ginny sat up looking around the room. Her clothes from last night lay heaped on the floor next to the bed. She could hear Harry in the back garden with James. She swung her feet to the floor and stood up, stripping the rest of her clothes off, as she headed for the bathroom. As she turned on the taps for a shower, he stomach gurgled. Ginny started to crouch over the toilet before she realized he was hungry. Shaking her head, at herself, Ginny climbed into the bathtub and stood under the spray, sighing blissfully at the idea of getting to take a shower that lasted longer than two minutes.

* * *

Harry carried a protesting James into the kitchen. 'We'll go back out after lunch,' he promised, kneeling to take James' coat and shoes off. He shot a quick Drying charm on James overalls and sent him to the sitting room to play. He heard the water upstairs shut off. Ginny had been asleep for a long time. He had tried to wake her about nine, but she just pulled the quilt over her head and he decided it was best to leave her be. She needed the sleep.

Ginny came into the kitchen, wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. 'Are you hungry?' Harry asked carefully, not wanting to send her bolting for the bathroom.

'Yeah. I am.' Ginny sounded surprised.

'How hungry are you?' Ginny didn't have to answer. Her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. Harry handed Ginny a plate of toast. 'Here. Get started on that. What do you want? Eggs?'

Ginny spread marmalade on the toast and shook her head. 'Porridge.'

'I think I can manage that.' Harry turned to the stove and measured oats and milk into a pot. 'Ron and Hermione are coming over for dinner tonight,' he reminded her.

'Oh, that's right.' Ginny went to the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice. 'She's due in a few days, isn't she?' She turned back to the table and frowned at the small vial sitting next to her toast.

Harry saw the frown as he brought a bowl to the table. 'You heard Shanti. Every day. Just like last time.'

Ginny heaved a put-upon sigh and pinched her nose shut, trying to aim the potion to the back of her throat so she didn't have to taste it. The vial dropped to the table as she frantically opened the juice, gulping several swallows straight from the carton. 'Merlin's pants, that's foul,' she breathed.

Harry snorted. 'Madam Pomfrey asked if I expected pumpkin juice once.'

'When was that?'

'Second year when Lockhart removed the bones from my arm. Avoid Skele-Gro at all costs,' he advised. 'Thought it burned a hole in my throat.'

'I'll try to remember that.' Ginny dipped a spoon into her porridge. 'How elaborate is dinner going to be tonight?'

'Not very. They just need someone else to worry about dinner. Ron's gotten edgy as hell, so George won't let him out front. Hermione's even worse than you were with James.'

Ginny winced in sympathy. She had been quite emotional the last couple of weeks. 'Casserole, salad, soup?' she ventured. 'And something with lots of chocolate for pudding.' She spooned some porridge into her mouth. 'We could all use some chocolate,' she said pointedly.

'For medicinal purposes, then?' Harry asked wryly.

'Yes.' Ginny pushed the bowl away. 'Did I say anything weird last night?'

Harry squarely met her eyes. 'No.'

* * *

Ron and Harry put their coats on after dinner and went to the storage shed under the pretense of mucking with the motorbike. Harry turned on the overhead light and handed Ron a wrench. 'We might as well turn a few bolts, while we're out here,' he said.

'Good idea. Ginny'll wonder why there's no dirt on our hands.' Ron gestured to the motorbike. 'Where should I…?'

Harry stood turning a wrench in his hands. 'I need to put the carburetor back on,' he said shrugging, picking up the newly reassembled part from the workbench.

Ron took his coat off and draped it over the bike's handlebars. 'So, how's it going?' he asked, with a meaningful glance at Harry.

'It's going.' Harry tightened a bolt. 'I'm no closer to knowing who it is.' He aimed a light kick at the workbench. 'It's a lesson in patience.' Harry laid the wrench down, and wiped his hands on a rag. 'One of my trainees thinks it's a pureblood, though.'

'Why is that?' Ron's brow furrowed.

'You should know that one,' Harry chided. 'What he, or she, calls Hermione. That's either a dead giveaway, or someone trying to throw us off the scent. But,' Harry added, 'I've never heard anyone _but_ a pureblood use that particular term, since some purebloods are more than a little concerned about blood status. Present company excluded, of course,' he said, cuffing Ron on the shoulder. 'Plus,' he added. 'All the letters they use, they come from wizarding magazines.'

'Yeah, I can't see the kind of pureblood that would leave that kind of rubbish lying around going into Muggle areas to buy a magazine. Most of them are mystified by Muggle money anyway.' Ron meditatively threaded a nut onto a bolt.

'Yeah, it's like we just keep going in circles –' Harry's thought was cut off by the sound of Ginny's voice.

'Harry! Ron! Get in here!'

* * *

Ginny leaned over the back of the chair Hermione had just vacated. There was something smeared across the seat. Praying it wasn't chocolate that James had accidentally dropped on the chair earlier, Ginny ran a forefinger through the smudge. She rubbed her finger and thumb together and turned to a heavily pregnant Hermione. 'Hermione, do you feel all right?'

'My back's been hurting all bloody day. Why?'

'I think your water just broke.'

Hermione blinked and looked down at the seat of the chair for herself. 'Oh, so that's what that was.' She looked up at Ginny a rueful smile on her face. 'For a moment, I thought I'd lost all control and pissed myself.'

'We need to get you to St. Mungo's.' Ginny opened the back door and called for Harry and Ron, who were tinkering with Sirius' motorbike.

'Is the pudding ready?' Ron said hopefully.

'No, but the baby is,' Hermione told him.

'What? Now?' yelped Ron.

'Yes, now. _Honestly!_'

'But we don't have anything,' Ron protested weakly.

'I don't think the baby cares,' Ginny murmured to Harry as a real contraction hit Hermione. The copy of _Witch Weekly_ Hermione held in her hands ripped in half.

'Ron, I really don't care what we have or what we don't have, but I don't think Harry or Ginny want me to have this baby on their kitchen table.'

Ron started to walk out the back door, changed his mind, and went toward the front door. 'Ronald, where are you going?' Hermione asked.

'I don't really know.'

'St. Mungo's,' Harry reminded him helpfully.

'Right.' Ron reached out to grasp Hermione's hand.

'Wait!' Hermione cried.

'What now?' Ron was grinding his teeth in frustration.

'Someone needs to get Mum!'

'I don't want to leave you alone,' Ron said stubbornly.

'And we need the bag!' Hermione said, clutching Ron's hand.

Ron was ready to rip his hair out.

'Ron, you take Hermione to St. Mungo's,' Ginny said taking pity on him. 'I'll go get the bag, and Harry can go pick up Jane.' She looked between Ron and Hermione. 'Good?' They both nodded. 'Good.' She looked at Harry, and beckoned to him. 'Let's go, then.'

* * *

Ginny came into the waiting area of St. Mungo's maternity floor, Hermione's bag in her hand, grateful for Hermione's anal retentive tendencies. It had been waiting by the front door, just like Hermione said. Harry hadn't arrived with Jane yet. Ron and Hermione were bickering in the corner, waiting for the welcome witch to locate Hermione's file.

Shanti walked into the waiting area and stood next to Ginny. 'It's a like a floor show,' she commented in fascination. 'I've been delivering babies for ten years, and I'd swear I've seen everything. But this.' She indicated the bickering couple. 'This takes the cake.'

'It's how they say "I love you" to each other,' Harry's voice came from behind Ginny. 'When they _don't_ do that, we worry.'

'Have they always been like this?'

'Yes.' Jane replied from behind Harry. 'Since they were at least twelve or so.'

'Mental,' Shanti said, shaking her head. 'You must be Hermione's mother,' she stated, going to take the file from the welcome witch. 'She looks just like you.' Shanti stopped and turned around. 'Want to come back with her?' Jane nodded and followed Shanti to the corner with Ron and Hermione. After a few moments, Ron hastily walked to where Harry and Ginny were still standing.

'Could you call Mum?' he asked.

'I'll get right on that.' Harry went to the small bank of fireplaces, while Ron spun around and sprinted after his wife.

Ginny sat down on the edge of a sofa, while Harry talked to Molly, his head in the fire. She slumped against the back of the sofa, leaning into Harry when he sat next to her after talking to Molly. 'We didn't get our chocolate,' she informed him.

'It'll keep.'

They looked up as the various family members began to appear in the waiting area, their sleepy children in tow. Ginny looked around and gasped. 'Bloody hell! James!' She shot off the sofa and Disapparated before Harry could ask what was wrong.

Harry looked around the waiting area, mentally counting, _Isabella,__ Victoire, Madeline, Parker, Fred, Jacob, Jam… _James' black head wasn't there. He was the only one of the grandchildren to not have some shade of red. 'Oh, Merlin's bollocks.' He stood up to follow Ginny back to Godric's Hollow. 'I'll be back in a bit!' he called across the room to Molly and Arthur, before he, too, Disapparated.

* * *

Ginny burst into the house, expecting to find all sorts of mayhem. She tripped up the stairs, and stumbled into James' room. He was, as usual, sprawled across the cot, in decadent abandon, his ragged stuffed black dog clutched in one chubby hand. For a moment, Ginny felt a sense of relief that was quickly overtaken by a choking sense of guilt. Feeling a sob rise in her throat, she clapped a hand over her mouth, lest she wake James, and staggered into the closest room, which happened to be the baby's across the hall. The rocking chair was outlined by the moonlight, and Ginny froze on the threshold as she saw it. _What kind of mother leaves her baby?_ She wailed to herself, her back against the wall, as she slid to the floor, a bundle of abject misery. She heard Harry calling for her, but didn't answer. By then, she was sobbing into her drawn-up knees. She wouldn't have been able to answer him if she tried.

* * *

Harry hit the back door at a run. 'Ginny?' She didn't answer him. 'Ginny?' he nearly shouted, running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He heard a muffled sob sound come from the baby's room. He took a moment to poke his head into James' room. He was sound asleep. They had put him down for the night after dinner. Harry pushed open the door to the baby's room. Ginny was sitting on the floor, her arms around her knees, crying. 'Gin…' Harry folded himself to the floor next to Ginny, wrapping his arms around her. 'What's the matter?' he asked softly, feeling slightly foolish as he did so. He knew exactly what it was.

'I lef-lef-left Jaaaames!' Ginny cried.

'Gin, he's fine.'

'But something could have happened,' Ginny hiccupped.

'With all the wards and charms we have on this place?'

'I'm a terrible mother,' she moaned.

'You're not.' Harry began to lightly rub a hand up and down her back. 'You're a good mother, Gin.' He pulled Ginny into his lap. 'And Gin, _we_ left James. I'm just as responsible as you are.' He rocked her gently, rather like he did with James, saying nothing.

After several minutes, Ginny stopped crying, but every so often she would take a deep breath, shuddering as it hitched in her chest, tears rolling down her cheeks.

'Do we have to go back right now?' she asked hoarsely.

'Not until you want to,' Harry assured her.

Ginny sighed. 'Can we just stay here for a little while?'

'For as long as you want.' Harry bent his head, pressing a kiss to the top of Ginny's head. He worked one hand free, and took out his wand, Summoning a face cloth, using the wand to soak it in cold water. He held out his arm and wrung the excess water from the cloth, and used his wand to Vanish the puddle it produced. He set his wand down, and wiped Ginny's face with the face cloth.

A creak in the hallway made him look up, his wand pointing at the door. It was Charlie. 'All right, then?' he asked. Harry nodded, setting the wand back on the floor. 'Mum's worried about the two of you.'

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Ginny answered. 'We left James,' she said, a slight hue of guilt coloring her voice.

'It was a mistake, Gin,' Charlie said, as he crouched down. 'Rubbish like that happens. It's all right.' Charlie leaned over and brushed a kiss over his sister's forehead. 'Come back with me?'

Harry rubbed the back of Ginny's neck. 'Ready to go, or do you want to stay here a bit longer?'

Ginny heaved a shuddering sigh, and got to her feet. 'Let's go.' She went into James' room, and lifted him from the cot, trying to wrap his quilt around him one-handed.

'Let me.' Harry took the quilt from her hand, and tucked it around James. His hand slid to the back of Ginny's head, and he leaned down to kiss her. The two of them followed Charlie back downstairs and out into the back garden.

* * *

Harry held James, watching Ginny cuddle Ron and Hermione's daughter. Who did not have a name yet. He peeked over Ginny's shoulder at the baby, who already had a riot of red curls. 'She's beautiful, mate,' he told Ron, who was grinning from ear-to-ear. Ginny transferred the baby to Katie and was mortified to feel the prickle of tears behind her eyelids. Harry stood behind her, his arm around her waist, hand splayed over the noticeable curve of her abdomen. Ginny rested a hand on top of his and leaned her head back against the shoulder that didn't have James on it. Harry felt a tremor run through her body.

Ginny tilted her head to look back at Harry. 'Let's go home,' she whispered. He looked down at her, and nodded, shifting James a bit. Ginny stepped away from him and went to Hermione and spoke a few words to her, ending with a long embrace that left both of them sniffling.

Harry made his farewells to Molly and Arthur and then went to Ron, pulling his best friend into a one-armed hug. 'We'll see you later, mate. Gin's getting tired.'

'No worries.' Ron waved him off.

Harry went to Hermione, and kissed her cheek. 'Good job, Hermione. Full marks,' he said teasingly. 'We'll see you later.' He took Ginny's hand and the two of them made their way out to the waiting area to Apparate home.


	7. Decisions

Ginny settled back into the sofa cushions, and grinned happily as the opening credits of _Roman Holiday_ scrolled across the screen. This was one of her favorites, sad ending and all. Harry sprawled at the other end of the sofa. 'We should do this sometime,' she remarked.

'Do what?'

'That.' Ginny pointed to the screen. 'Rome. Go see all those places.'

'Like the honeymoon we never had?'

'Yeah,' she said wistfully.

'Just let me know when,' Harry said.

'Next spring,' Ginny said quickly.

'Just Rome?' Harry asked curiously.

Ginny nodded. 'Just Rome,' she confirmed. 'Now, shhh. Film's getting started.'

Halfway through the film, Harry realized Ginny had managed to maneuver herself to sit in his lap. She nestled her head on his shoulder and began to search for _that_ spot on his neck. 'Ginny?'

'Mmmmm?'

'You _do _realize that's how we got into this position in the first place…' She found the spot and began to nibble.

'And what position would that be again?'

'Parents,' he said with a muffled groan. She had slipped her hands under his shirt. 'Ginny… you're not watching the film…'

'Bugger the film,' she muttered, trying to unbutton his jeans. Her hands froze when they heard a whimper from upstairs. 'Every bloody time,' Ginny swore. 'You'd think he had the Sight.' She slid off Harry's lap. 'I'll go.' Ginny looked down with a raised eyebrow, and tossed a pillow into his lap.

'What's that for?' Harry asked, holding up the pillow

Ginny looked down significantly. 'In case one of my prat brothers makes an unexpected visit.'

'Oh…' Harry flushed with embarrassment.

Ginny started up the stairs. 'One day, one of them is going to walk in on something they'd rather not see,' she predicted.

Harry let his head drop against the back of the sofa. Moments like this had been hard to come by lately. If Ginny hadn't been tired, he had been ready to drop with exhaustion. Or the nausea that seemed to persistently haunt Ginny would rear its ugly head. He didn't know about Ginny – although he _could_ guess – but he was ready to climb the walls. Bill had warned him the difference between two pregnancies would be like night and day, but Harry didn't really believe it. Not until he realized it had been weeks since the last time he and Ginny had done anything in bed besides sleep.

He felt Ginny plop back down on the sofa. 'So…' she began.

'So?'

'Do you want to…?'

Harry grinned. 'Do I want to do what?'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Pick up where we left off.'

'Why don't you come find out?' Harry tossed the pillow across the room.

Ginny scooted into Harry's lap. 'So where were we?'

'Right there.'

* * *

Harry stared at Iain. 'When did you find time to do this?'

Iain shrugged. 'I don't sleep much.'

Harry set the parchment down and ran a finger over the surface. 'So… Where does this parchment come from?'

'Isle of Skye,' Iain pronounced, a hint of pride in his voice.

'Portree?'

'No.' Iain pulled out a map of the Hebrides, and tapped it with his wand, making the Isle of Skye glow softly. 'Here.' He pointed to the northernmost tip of the island. 'The bloke that does this does it all by hand. Well, he does use _some_ magic.' Iain tapped the parchment in front of Harry with his wand, and it flared for a moment, before a light purple mist rose from the surface. 'See? Also, he's sort of a hermit, and doesn't do owl order. If you want to get this stuff, you have to go see him.'

'How do you know this?'

'I'm from Portree. This man is legendary on Skye.' Iain ran a fingertip over the parchment thoughtfully. 'My parents used to use this for important letters and the like. I'm surprised I didn't think of it before.'

'You were doing other things,' Harry said dryly. 'This is great, Iain, but it still doesn't tell us who.'

'Yeah, I know.' Iain slumped in his chair.

'But you've given me an idea, so go home and get some sleep. I'm sending out Aurors to take over the watch tomorrow, and I want to see all of you in here on Monday morning. Nine sharp.'

'Shall I tell the others?'

'Thanks, but I'll do it.' Harry stood up and shooed the trainee out of the office, closing the door behind Iain. He turned back to his desk, and pulled the latest note closer. Harry tapped it with his wand muttering, ­'_Locus Aperio_.' It wouldn't pinpoint exactly where, but it would narrow down an area. It wasn't the first time he had tried this spell, but the magazine letters were interfering with its efficacy. It was the same as always – ghostly letters floated above the parchment, a jumble of neighborhoods in London and a few towns in Scotland. 'Bugger,' he growled.

He paced the office, glaring at the note. _Where the bloody hell did you come from?_ Someone knocked, and he stopped pacing to open the door. 'Kathleen, come in.'

Kathleen sat on the edge of a chair, fidgeting. 'Mr. Potter, sir…' she began nervously.

'Harry.' Harry eyed the trainee. She was normally calm and collected. The anxious fidgets were entirely out of character.

Kathleen took a deep breath. 'Harry. I haven't said anything before, but…' She shrugged. 'I have this _feeling_.'

Harry perched on the edge of his desk. 'Feelings are what separate Aurors from Magical Law Enforcement drones. I have a high regard for feelings. It's kept me alive more times than I can count.' He smiled encouragingly at the young trainee. 'Go on, then.'

'I should have said something earlier,' Kathleen whispered, twisting her hands. 'But the last few times a note's appeared, I noticed something _odd_ and because I don't have proof, didn't want to say anything.'

'I'll give you the lecture later, Kathleen,' Harry promised. 'What do you mean by odd?'

'The shrubbery. Around the building with Mrs. Granger-Weasley's flat. Every time I've been there, and a note shows up, the shrubbery rustles. I Disillusioned myself and sat as close to the shrubbery as I could, and Harry, just the tops of the shrubs move. Like someone's walking on top, but nothing _human_ can walk across it like that.' She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. 'I thought, maybe Animagus under a Disillusionment, but I checked the register. There aren't any that small.'

Harry's breath caught in his chest. He stared at Kathleen, words forming on his lips, but unable to say them. His eyes closed and a series of images flashed through his head. A roaring sound filled his ears. He opened his eyes, and saw Kathleen's lips moving, but couldn't hear a word she said. He willed himself to breathe slowly. The roaring subsided, and he shook his head. Kathleen was babbling, and Harry held up a hand, trying to stanch the tide of Kathleen's words. 'It's all right, Kathleen.' He gazed at her quizzically. 'You're right in that you should have said something before. But it's all right. I'm glad you've said something now.' Harry put a hand on her shoulder. 'Next time, Kathleen, _say_ something. Even if it's just a gut feeling.' He put his hand under her elbow. 'Go home and get some rest. I expect to see you in the trainee room at nine Monday morning.' He ushered Kathleen out of his office and closed the door.

Dizzy, Harry dropped to the floor, his back against the door. _Oh sweet Merlin,_ he thought hazily. _Why didn't I see it before?_ 'Because you weren't looking for it, gumby,' he said out loud. He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the trainee schedule off his desk. He tapped it with his wand and grabbed a quill, scrawling a message to the trainees to meet him here at three in the afternoon. Aurors would take over their surveillance posts. Stuffing the schedule into his pocket, he dashed for the lifts and punched the button for Level One.

He ran down the corridor to the Minister's offices, pausing long enough at Percy's desk to bellow, 'Is he here?'

'Yes, the Minister's here.' Percy stood up. 'He's with…' Percy trailed off as he noticed the hectic expression on Harry's face. 'Oh, bugger the Head of Magical Games and Sports. Man's got dust bunnies for brains anyway,' he muttered. 'Go ahead,' he said to Harry gesturing to the door.

Harry burst through the door. 'Kingsley, I _need_ to talk to you.' _Now_, was the unspoken word in Harry's eyes.

'Smith, this is something that needs my urgent attention,' Shacklebolt, said, clapping Zacharias Smith on the back. 'Go see Percy. This is something he'll be able to clear up.' Shacklebolt saw Smith to the door, closing it firmly, muttering, '… Dust bunnies…' He turned to Harry. 'So, what's this about?'

'I know who it is. Who's been threatening Percy and Hermione,' Harry panted. 'Or at least I know how they're getting there.'

* * *

'How do you know it's Inverness?' Harry asked. The past hour planning with Shacklebolt had steadied his nerves.

'Last known location. Or it was as of last year. She's moved around a lot the past couple of years.' Shacklebolt leaned back in his chair, gazing out the window at the sunny meadow Maintenance had provided that day. 'When do you think you and the trainees will be leaving?'

'Sunday morning.' Harry pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. 'Don't tell anybody where we are.'

'Of course not.'

Harry leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. 'I won't be in the rest of the week. I'll have to get Ginny and James settled.'

'With Molly and Arthur?' Shacklebolt guessed.

'Yeah,' Harry said unhappily. 'She won't like it.'

'How far along is she?'

'Six and a half months.'

'Think you'll be back in time?'

Harry sighed and buried his face in his hands. 'I hope so.'

* * *

Harry stood at the head of the table in the trainees' room. 'Kathleen, Iain, Bree, Andre, Kevin, and Moira – I need you to meet me here at six Sunday morning. I'll tell you where we're going then. Eric, Ben, and Lucy – you three will still be in charge of the surveillance. The Aurors taking over for the others will answer directly to you. If they give you any guff, report to the Minister _immediately_. Mr. Weasley is to allow you in any time you need to see the Minister.' Harry looked around the table. The three youngest trainees gulped, but nodded.

'Harry? What do we need to pack?' asked Bree, a quill poised to make a list.

'Bring some warm clothing. A sleeping bag would be a good idea. Bring about a week's worth of clothes. But no more than a knapsack. Like what you'd have at school. Charm the inside of it so you can put all your clothes and sleeping bag inside it.

'I don't need to tell you how important it is to keep this quiet. Do not tell anyone where you are going. Not even your families.' Harry gazed at them steadily. 'Are there any other questions?' The trainees shook their heads. 'Send your Patronus if anything comes up.' Harry walked to the door, opened it, and strode to the lifts.

* * *

Ginny walked with James back to the house. She had taken him to a play park near the center of the village. It was nearly mid-May and the weather had warmed considerably. He had fallen asleep in his pushchair, a rim of sticky chocolate ice cream around his mouth. Ginny opened the front door, and backed into the house, carefully maneuvering the pushchair into the front hallway. She stooped over James and unstrapped him from the seat, nearly staggering as she tried to lift him up. He was limp in sleep, and seemed to weigh twice what he did awake. Ginny decided to forgo taking him upstairs – she didn't think she could carry him – and laid him on the sofa. She collapsed into a chair, stifling a groan as her body molded itself to the chair cushions. Frowning, she Summoned a small pillow from the sofa and stuffed it behind her back. She saw Harry come down the stairs, a bag in each hand. 'You're home early!' she exclaimed softly, pleased to see him.

'Do you want James upstairs?' he asked, spotting the toddler on the sofa.

'If you can carry him. I barely made it to the sofa.' Harry grinned and made a show of flexing his muscles before Ginny hurled the pillow from behind her back at him.

Harry scooped James into his arms, grimacing at the stickiness around James' mouth. 'Ice cream, Gin?'

'He eats like Ron. One tiny cup of ice cream is not going to ruin his dinner.' Ginny heaved herself to her feet. 'Ten more weeks,' she sighed. She followed Harry and James up the stairs, figuring she could have a nice kip in her bed instead of the armchair. She could feel the baby stretch, the tiny hands and feet nudging her.

James had dubbed the baby "Bunny". He was in the throes of a fervent love affair with bunnies and rabbits, and all animals were called bunny. Bunny was rather shy, however; and although he was active, the second she or Harry laid a hand on her abdomen, he – or she – stopped moving. It was a rare gift indeed for someone other than Ginny to feel it kick.

Harry went into James' room, and Ginny turned the other way to their bedroom. She stopped short when she saw Harry's battered knapsack sitting in the middle of the bed, next to a pile of clothing. The Invisibility Cloak lay neatly folded next to a few of Harry's jumpers. One of her hands reached out and grasped the bedpost to steady herself. She heard Harry walk into the room. 'Where are you going?'

Harry walked past her, and carefully placed his jeans inside the knapsack. 'I can't tell you.'

Ginny's knees wouldn't hold her up, so she slowly sat on the foot of the bed. 'So we're back to that?' she asked coldly.

Harry stuffed the t-shirts and jumpers in the knapsack, and pulled the flap over the opening, threading the strap through the buckle. He carefully rolled up the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it into one of the front pockets. 'Do you remember that week after we found out you were pregnant?' Ginny nodded stonily. 'And I told you someone was threatening Hermione and Percy?' Ginny nodded again. 'I've been working on that since January. And I know who it is, but I have to find them. _And I can't tell you anything else_.' His voice cracked from the strain.

He looked at Ginny from the corner of his eye. She had kept her hair shorter, and he could see the back of her neck turn red. _Damn_, he thought. His eyes darted around the room, looking for her wand. Not seeing it anywhere, he took a deep breath and dove into what amounted to shark-infested waters. 'And I want you and James to go stay at the Burrow until I get back.'

'_You_ want?' Ginny asked acidly. 'I'm not a sixteen-year old you can leave behind anymore.'

'I know that!' Harry turned to rummage in a cupboard for his spare glasses. 'But Gin, think about it. I'm going to be gone for two weeks at the very least, and maybe longer than a month. I do not want you to be here alone, pregnant, with a two-year old!' he hissed. Harry shoved the spare glasses in their case into a side pocket of the knapsack and turned around, anguish clear on his face. 'Please, Ginny. I'll be able to do my job better if I know the three of you are safe.' He sat on the edge of the bed. 'I _need_ you and James to go stay with your parents,' he pleaded softly.

'When are you leaving?'

'Sunday. Early Sunday.' Harry leaned against a bedpost. 'We can go over to the Burrow Saturday afternoon, get you and James settled in, and stay the night there.'

'Fine. I'll get James and me packed tomorrow.'

'I already did it.'

'What else is there for me to do?' Ginny exploded. 'You've made all the decisions, like I'm too gormless to make my own decisions!'

'I just didn't want you to worry about anything.'

'Guess what?' Ginny spat. 'I've worried since the day you became an Auror.' She stalked out of the room, and went downstairs, slamming the back door.

* * *

Harry sat on the bed, stunned. He knew Ginny was going to be upset, but he hadn't been expecting the fireworks. He could go after Ginny, but experience had taught him it was best to let her cool off a bit. If he went after her now, he'd end up with some sort of nasty hex. He hated fighting with her. He hated any kind of bickering. He didn't see how Ron and Hermione could stand it. When he and Ginny fought, it got downright poisonous.

Harry picked up the knapsack and carried it downstairs, with only a mild sense of _déjà vu_. He left it next to the bags he had packed earlier for James and Ginny, and went into the office. He sat behind his desk for several minutes before pulling the bottom drawer open. The only contents were a folder that lay in the bottom of the drawer. He picked up the folder and lay on the desk. It held two pieces of parchment. Harry picked up a quill and turned his attention to the topmost parchment. It was his will. He hadn't changed it since James was born. It was fairly straightforward. Ginny would have sole ownership of the house and number twelve Grimmauld Place. Part of his fortune would go to Molly and Arthur. George and Ron were to split his share of the shop evenly. The rest of the money would go to Ginny. _At least she won't have to worry about money_, he thought grimly. He had set up an account in Gringotts for Teddy for school, and had one for James. Harry added instructions at the bottom to set up the same kind of account for the baby. He signed and dated the addition and pulled out the other sheet of parchment.

If there was a body – there hadn't been one when Sirius died – Harry asked to be buried near his parents. If there wasn't, he wanted a marker near his parents. It felt rather like tempting fate, but Harry knew that if he were to die, Ginny would have enough to handle without worrying about details.

Harry found another blank sheet of parchment. He held the quill poised over it, for several long moments.

_18 May 2006_

_Dear Ginny…_

* * *

After Ginny left the house, she stomped into the woods, heading for a small clearing, muttering, 'Arrogant prat,' under her breath. She kicked at a fallen tree, swearing when she bruised her toes. Annoyed, Ginny yanked off her sandals and hurled them forcefully across the clearing. They disappeared into the foliage with a leafy crash. Ginny patted her pocket, looking for her wand, but she had left it in the house. 'Damn it!' she ground out, before dropping to the fallen tree, panting.

Bunny chose that moment to turn a lazy somersault, bringing Ginny back down to earth. She looked down at the swell of her stomach, hands splaying over it. She could see Harry's point. It was going to be difficult for her to be alone for a period of time longer than a few days. And even though she could work at the Burrow as easily as she could here, she wouldn't have Harry to get James up and dressed while she wrote. And it wouldn't be forever. 'Just a few weeks,' Ginny said to the trees around her.

It wouldn't have bothered her so much, Ginny reflected, if he had at least _talked_ to her before making all those arrangements. Sure, she would have been upset, but it wouldn't have seemed like he was making decisions for her. He'd even packed her bloody clothes, for Merlin's sake. Ginny knew he thought he was making things easier on her. And deep down, she did appreciate it. But he was right. He wouldn't be able to focus on his job, if he had to worry about either her or James. And he was going to control the things he could control, like packing for her.

Sighing, Ginny slid to the grass and braced her back against the fallen tree. She looked up at the clouds, watching the play of light and shadow on them as they slowly changed from white to orange, and finally purple with the setting sun.

Ginny pushed herself to her feet. She started to head to the house, but veered to the right. She needed to do something repetitive, just to blow off steam. In the fading light, Ginny rooted for round, flat stones. She thought with a slight pang of the summer she had turned five. Fred had taught her how to skip stones. When she played for the Harpies, some of her best goals used the same motions as skipping stones across the pond. She knew Fred would have gotten a kick out of that.

When she had collected a small pile of stones, Ginny took one from her skirt pocket and took a deep breath. She waded into the chilly water of the pond, hissing as the water crept up her ankles. Ginny flicked her wrist, and the stone skipped five times before it sank into the water. She repeated the action with each stone, nodding in satisfaction when she managed to get the stone to skip more than five times, and grunting in disappointment if it just sank.

The last stone skipped lightly across the surface of the pond, and sank with a small splash. Ginny squinted, but she couldn't even make out the opposite shore of the pond. The sun had set several minutes ago. Ginny looked down at her watch in surprise. It was after nine.

Ginny trudged into the back garden from the woods behind the house. She was exhausted. Harry had left a light burning in the kitchen, and Ginny could see the light in James' room spilling into the corridor upstairs. She circled the house, going into the front garden, watching Harry read to James before he put James down for the night. James' face was alight in rapt attention. All of James' Beatrix Potter books had been charmed so the pictures moved when someone read it aloud. James giggled, the sound floating down from the open window to his mother's ears. Ginny sighed and went around to the back of the house.

Ginny opened the back door and padded into the house. She squinted at the bright light in the kitchen and looked down ruefully at her muddy toes. The mud was starting to dry in dingy rings around her ankles and streaks down her foot. Ginny stole up the stairs, coming to a stop on the top stair. Harry stood silhouetted in the dim light from James' room. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly, closing the door. Ginny gave him an awkward shrug and went into their bedroom. Apologies had never been easy for either of them.

Harry followed her, his eyes drifting over Ginny's dirty, disheveled clothes. He wondered what had caused the muddy streaks that snaked up the backs of Ginny's legs and blossomed over her feet. 'Gin?'

Ginny paused in her rummaging for a clean nightdress and looked up. Harry was looking at her with a perplexed expression. 'Yes?'

'Where are your shoes?'

'Oh.' Ginny looked down at her feet. 'In the woods, I imagine.'

Harry blinked owlishly. 'Oh. All right.' Harry sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. 'I owe you an apology,' he said stiffly.

Ginny turned around a clean nightdress in her hand. 'For what?'

Harry traced the border of the rug with his bare toes. 'For the mixed messages I keep giving you. I tell you that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, then treat you like you can't do anything.' He looked up at her. 'I should have let you pack your own clothes.'

'You were just trying to help.' Ginny went into the bathroom and turned the taps on for a shower.

Harry slid off the bed, and followed her. 'And I could have discussed it with you before I went and made all sorts of arrangements. I've cut you out of enough the past few months.'

Ginny pulled her shirt over her head. 'You're right.' Her hands went to the waistband of her skirt.

'You don't have to go to the Burrow, if you don't want to,' Harry said softly. 'I should have given you the option of staying here.'

'Yes, you should have.' Ginny pulled the shower curtain back, one hand on the wall, to steady herself as she stepped into the tub. 'But I get it, all right? If I were you, I'd probably have done the same thing.' The curtain closed.

Harry pulled back the shower curtain enough to peer at Ginny, who was lathering a face cloth. 'Want some help?'

'Yes.'

Harry stepped into the tub behind Ginny, still dressed in his pajama bottoms and t-shirt. Harry looked down at his soaked clothes in mock surprise. 'Oh, my. I guess I'll have to take these off then.'

'I imagine you will.' Ginny watched Harry toss his wet clothes outside the bathtub, to land with a _splat_ on the floor. He took the soapy cloth and slowly worked his way down to her feet.

Harry looked up at Ginny. 'Just one question… Why were your feet so muddy?'

'Skipping stones in the pond.'

'Oh, okay.' Harry dropped a kiss on Ginny's ankle before he stood up. He carelessly draped the cloth over the side of the tub, and cupped Ginny's face in both hands. 'You know I love you, don't you?' he asked intently.

Ginny nodded. 'You'll be careful, won't you?'

'Of course I will.'

'No heroics,' she ordered. 'I can't have you looking like Mad-Eye. You'll scare the children.'

'I'll try.'

'You'll come back soon?' Ginny hated the child-like tone in her voice.

'I'll try.' Harry wrapped his arms around her.


	8. Goodbye is a Dirty Word

Ginny was brushing her hair the next morning when Harry walked into the bedroom and dumped a bag on the unmade bed. He sat on the edge of the bed. 'Your choice, Gin. If you want to stay here with James, that's fine, but you know how I feel about it.'

Ginny looked at the bag. It was the one she had used when the Harpies played for the European championships the year before she stopped playing. 'I'll go,' she said quietly, turning the brush over in her hands. Harry nodded shortly and slid off the bed.

Ginny watched curiously as he methodically unpacked the clothing he had put in it less than twenty-four hours earlier. He closed the wardrobe door and gestured to the now-empty bag. 'You should pack for a couple of weeks. If you need something –'

'If I need something I can come back for it.' Ginny dropped her hairbrush on the small vanity and opened the wardrobe Harry had just closed. She rummaged around in it, pulling out most of what Harry had just put back in. Ginny stacked the clothing on the bed neatly, and turned to the other wardrobe that held Harry's clothes. She took out one of his older t-shirts and laid it next to the rest of her clothes, ignoring the question on his face. She went back to her wardrobe and took out a few things Harry hadn't thought to pack, like the nightdress that wasn't quite so threadbare and her nicer dressing gown. She found a pair of shoes she could just slip on her feet and not bother with laces. 'Why?' she asked. 'Why are you giving me the choice now?'

Harry shrugged. 'You were right last night. I should have talked to you before making any kind of decisions that affect both of us and James. And you're almost twenty-five and perfectly capable of packing your own clothing.'

'Thanks,' she replied dryly. Ginny put the shoes into the bottom of the bag, then began to stow the rest of the clothing inside. 'I can put the rest of my things in tomorrow morning,' she said, tugging the zipper closed. She went to the window and stared at the early-morning sun highlighting the drifts of mist that lay over the rolling hills and valleys around Godric's Hollow. 'One of us should go wake James,' she said. 'Before it gets too late and he won't go down for a nap later.'

'In a minute.' Harry rested his hands on either side of her hips and bent his head so he nuzzled the top of her head. 'What do you want to do today?'

'Nothing, really.' Ginny gave Harry a one-shouldered shrug.

'Come on, Gin, you have to want to do _something_,' he coaxed.

Ginny turned around, pushing him back a few paces. 'I don't want to do anything special,' she said evenly. 'I don't want to think about it until I have to, all right? This is just a normal day, like every other day.' She brushed past him and went to James' room.

James was still asleep, his thumb embedded in his puckered mouth. Ginny bent over the cot, and brushed her hand over James' hair. It was still baby-fine and feathery, but it was going to be just like his father's – thick and unruly. Ginny shook him a little. 'Hey, James,' she crooned. 'Time to wake up, sweetie.'

James blinked, his dark blue eyes hazy with residual drowsiness. 'Mummeee,' he mumbled, before turning his face into the mattress of the cot, and rubbing it back and forth for a moment. He pushed himself into a sitting position and patted blindly for the dummy tangled in the quilt and pushed it into his mouth. Satisfied, he held out his arms, and Ginny swung him to the floor. James ran out of the room and bounced off Harry's knees. 'Dahdee,' he said around the nub of the dummy clenched between his teeth.

Harry bent down and picked up James. 'Let's see if we need a fresh nappy, shall we?' he asked his son, wrinkling his nose at the heavy, soggy feeling of James' nappy as he lifted him to a changing table. 'Is it too soon to start house-training him, do you think?' he asked Ginny as he unsnapped James' pajamas, gingerly peeling the wet nappy off James' bum. James pulled the dummy from his mouth and grinned toothily at his father.

Ginny handed Harry a dry nappy. 'Depends on James, don't you think?' She leaned against the table while Harry applied a layer of talcum powder to James before pinning the nappy on. 'Teddy was what? Almost three? Then Vic was a bit younger than two. About James' age, I think.' Ginny rummaged in a cupboard for some clothes to put on James. 'The twins are still in nappies,' she added. 'And they're only a few months older than James.'

'Can I just say I'm grateful we're not having twins?' Harry remarked, as he slid the soft khaki fabric up James' pudgy legs and over his bottom.

'That makes two of us,' Ginny muttered.

Harry set James on the floor, after he pulled a tiny Tutshill sweatshirt over James' head. Keeping a firm grip on his son's hand, Harry released the gate at the top of the stairs, and let James carefully go down the stairs, one riser at a time. 'I'll go to London later,' he threw over his shoulder. 'Pick up some Thai food for dinner from our place in Soho.'

'Nothing spicy, please.' Ginny sighed. 'Bun here doesn't like spicy lately.'

* * *

Ginny watched Harry read a story to James before they put him to bed. She yawned widely, belatedly remembering to cover her mouth. Harry looked at her from over the top of the book, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. Ginny shook her head and leaned against Harry, the three of them tucked together in the armchair Harry had enlarged for them. James drowsed, his small head bumping Ginny's shoulder. Ginny reached over and smoothed her hand over his head and lightly rubbed his back, before letting her eyes close.

It had been as close to a normal day as possible, marred only by the knowledge of Harry's upcoming departure Sunday morning. The Quidditch season was drawing to a close and Ginny hadn't had to go to a game. The Harpies would have their team for the next season in place by July, so Ginny would have to write profiles of each player, but that was at least a month away. 'Ready for bed, Gin?' Harry asked softly, his lips next to her ear.

'Yeah.'

Harry carefully slid out of the chair and lifted James into his arms, turning to lay the sleeping toddler in the cot. Ginny followed him out of the room and into theirs. She brushed her teeth and stretched out in the bed, heaving a sigh in relief as her body relaxed and the pressure on her lower back lessened. She fell asleep waiting for Harry to finish in the bathroom.

Harry flicked the light switch off and stopped in the doorway. Ginny was sound asleep, one hand flung over his pillow, the other resting on the bulge of the baby. He settled into the armchair in the corner of the room, and used his wand to dim the light. The cool May breeze made the filmy curtains billow into the room, giving it a dream-like quality.

He stared at Ginny, far into the night, until his eyes watered and burned, trying to brand the image of her into his brain. False dawn washed the vivid colors of the quilt and Ginny's hair to pale imitations when Harry finally crawled into bed.

* * *

Harry held James' hand tightly in his. His knapsack was slung over one shoulder and Ginny had her and James' bags, shrunk to a more manageable size. 'Ready?' He looked at Ginny.

She took a deep breath, and took a handful of Floo powder. She threw it into the fireplace, saying firmly, 'The Burrow.' Harry watched her disappear in a swirl of emerald flames.

He squatted so he was eye-level with James. 'You're going to go stay with Grandmum and Granddad for a few days,' he told him. James didn't answer, but looked up at Harry, uncertainty written all over his face. Harry straightened and swung James into his arms. He took a handful of Floo powder and looked down at his son. 'Ready to go?' he asked softly, rubbing his nose against James'. Again, James was silent, but buried his face into Harry's shirtfront. Harry threw the Floo powder into the fireplace and said, 'The Burrow.' Then, he stepped into the flames, both arms wound around James.

It had taken a lot of effort, but Ginny and Harry finally managed to give James a bath, and put into the old, but still usable cot in Bill's old room. They had gently, but firmly rebuffed Molly and Arthur's offers of assistance. This was their last night together as a family for a while, Harry had said.

Harry sat in the armchair that had been in Ginny's room when she was younger, reading to James. It was their nightly ritual: bath, story, and into bed. James, who had been uncharacteristically quiet all afternoon, clutched his stuffed black dog, idly toying with the chewed ears. Harry set him in the cot, and bent to kiss him. 'G'night, James.'

'Nih-nih, Dahdee.' James lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. ' 'Tar, Dahdee,' he whined, pointing to the bare ceiling.

Harry raised his eyes. The ceiling in James' room was charmed to have twinkling stars at night. Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and muttered a few words, sweeping the tip in an arc. Tiny, golden pinpricks of light glowed on the ceiling. A smile blossomed on James' face. Harry took the opportunity to slip out of the room. He could say his goodbyes to his son later.

He still had nine hours left before he had to leave.

* * *

Harry closed the door to Ginny's childhood bedroom, and leaned against it, watching her turn the magically-widened bed down. 'You have no idea how much I wanted to do this when I was seventeen,' he quipped, trying to lighten the increasingly somber mood between the two of them.

Ginny glanced at him over her shoulder. 'What? Sleep with a fat, pregnant woman?'

'No.' Harry pushed off the door, and went to stand behind Ginny, pulling her back against him. 'To make love with you.' He pushed Ginny's hair away from her neck, and kissed the skin under her ear. 'I always wondered how far we would have gotten if Ron hadn't interrupted us on my birthday.'

Ginny snorted. 'If it hadn't been Ron, it would have been someone one else.'

Harry's hands dipped to the buttons of her nightdress, fingers working the tiny buttons through the buttonholes. 'Good thing they're not here, then.' He slid his hands across the expanse of skin exposed by the gaping front of the nightdress, and grasped the sleeves, tugging the garment off, so it pooled at her feet.

Ginny turned questioningly. 'Are you sure you want to? Don't you need to get some sleep?'

Harry's breath hissed between his clenched teeth. It was taking every scrap of control he had. 'Ginny, in the morning, I'm going to leave and go sit and watch until this miserable excuse for humanity cocks up.' He cupped her face in both hands and tilted it up. 'God, yes, I want to,' he murmured, before his mouth closed over hers.

Ginny began to work the old t-shirt up Harry's torso, and broke the kiss long enough to pull it over his head. She eased the boxers down, smiling as his skin shivered in the wake of her fingertips. She pulled him down to the bed with her.

To Ginny, it felt as if Harry thought this was the last time he'd ever see her. His hands and mouth roamed over her body, like he was trying to memorize the contours of breast and hip. Ginny gasped as his lips closed around newly-sensitive skin, and her fingers laced through his hair, urging him closer. She could feel him come closer and closer to the edge, only to stop and slowly back away.

It could have been five minutes or five hours, swimming in the sensation of their bodies. Ginny found she didn't care. She felt the blood pound in her ears, and opened her eyes, gazing down at Harry, watching his face as he slowly moved inside her. The hair around his face was damp with sweat. His eyes were wide open, the bright green deepening to the shade of the pines in the Scottish Highlands around the school. Her fingers laced through his, and she felt edge of his wedding ring press into her skin, as his fingers tightened on hers. 'Let go,' she whispered. 'Just let go.'

Harry shuddered at the sound of her voice. He couldn't hold back much longer, and the husky sounds of her voice only unleashed something primal deep within himself. He pulled her head down, and barely had time to beg, 'Kiss me,' before he climaxed, the harsh groan muffled by Ginny's mouth.

Ginny leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, shivering as his fingers lazily traced up her back, unable to move just yet. Harry pressed light kisses to any part of her face and shoulder he could reach. Ginny slowly eased to one side of Harry, whimpering at the loss of bodily contact.

* * *

It was after midnight. Harry lay awake, curled on his side watching Ginny sleep. One of his hands spread over her bulging middle. 'I need… I have something I need to say to you,' he whispered to her, almost soundlessly, his throat closing around the words. Knowing he would weep with the effort of trying to say them, he shifted his attention to the baby. 'I'm going to miss so much with you. Even if I'm only gone a few days, it's still too much. There are so many things about my parents and godfather that I want to tell you, like I did with your brother. And we can't forget Quidditch.

'But I'll be back soon. I promise. We'll have all the time in the world to talk about those things.' Harry shifted a bit, trying not to wake Ginny. 'You do have a family that adores you. Even if I don't…' Harry swallowed the lump that appeared in his throat. 'You will be loved and cared for, Bun. That I can promise you.' Harry slowly exhaled, and his eyes drifted shut.

He slept fitfully, unwilling to fall into a deep sleep. More often than not, he gazed at Ginny's sleeping form, in a state halfway between dreams and wakefulness, restraining himself from waking her. She needed the sleep more than he did.

There were only five hours left.

* * *

Harry was fully conscious well before sunrise, stifling a groan as he stretched, his hand splayed over Ginny's abdomen. He could feel the baby gently stretch inside Ginny, the nudges tapping against his palm. His skin tingled as a thrill ran up Harry's arm. He cautiously knelt over Ginny, his face hovering a hairsbreadth over her swollen belly. 'I'm going to go away for a while now, Bun. So try not to give your mum a hard time, eh? I've asked her to put up with an awful lot lately, so be good, all right?' His hand slowly rubbed in circles over her skin.

Ginny slowly came awake. Harry's movements had jarred her to consciousness. She felt Harry's caressing hand still as she opened her eyes. Harry drew in a sharp breath. This was when Harry thought she was the most beautiful – still drowsy with sleep, and her eyes heavy-lidded, hair spread across the pillow in a sunburst of color. He let his head rest on her stomach, and her hand stroked his hair. Harry pulled her hand to his mouth and nibbled her fingers.

Ginny moved restlessly. His mouth moved to her wrist, tongue flicking the sensitive skin, sending jolts to the core of her body. 'Do you have time?' she whispered, not wanting to make more noise than necessary and break the aura surrounding the bed.

Harry lifted his head and squinted at the watch on his wrist. It was only four-thirty. 'Yeah. I don't need to leave for an hour.' He pulled himself up to her pillow.

'You didn't get much sleep,' she observed.

'Neither did you.'

Ginny turned so she spooned against Harry. She felt him start in surprise. Ginny looked over her shoulder. 'I miss the contact,' she said, almost apologetically. Harry didn't say anything, but gave her a hard sucking kiss at the base of her neck in reply.

Reluctantly, Harry slid out of the bed, his body screaming in weariness. He was going to pay for it later, but he didn't care right now. Ginny watched him pick up his discarded boxers and pull them on, shivering slightly as the morning breeze swirled in through the open window. He reached for the neatly folded clothes on Ginny's old desk, and pulled them on, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his socks. 'No shower?' Ginny asked in surprise.

Harry looked down at her, and shook his head. 'No,' he said mildly. He bent to kiss Ginny. 'I won't be able to write to you or anything,' he said softly. Ginny swallowed hard, and nodded. 'I should be home before the baby's born.' He paused and clutched her hand. 'If anything,' he paused and slowly drew in a deep breath. 'If anything happens to me, the papers are in the bottom drawer of my desk at home.'

'Papers?' Ginny pushed the word past the lump in her throat.

Harry toyed with the edge of the sheet draped over Ginny. 'My will. Arrangements for…' He tried to swallow the lump that suddenly appeared in his own throat. 'Burial,' he finished.

'That's not going to happen,' Ginny told him fiercely, sitting up.

'Well, I hope not,' Harry replied, with a watery grin. He kissed Ginny with heartbreaking gentleness before he rose from the bed. 'Go back to sleep, Gin.' His fingers combed through her tumbled hair. 'I'll see you,' he choked, unable to say the word, "goodbye".

He slipped out of the room, and went to Bill's old room, where James slept. Harry crouched next to the cot, and watched his son sleep for several minutes. 'Hey, mate,' he whispered. His hand drifted through the railing of the cot, and rested on the top of James' messy black hair. 'Take care of Mummy, okay? She won't admit she needs it, but do it anyway.' His eyes stung with unshed tears, and he pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the tears that threatened to fall. 'I love you, James.' Harry stood up and bent over the cot, leaning over to kiss James' sleep-flushed cheek.

He walked out of the room, without a backward glance at James, knowing it would be harder to leave if he did. Harry swiftly descended the stairs, skillfully avoiding the ones that creaked the loudest, and went into the kitchen. Ginny was sitting at the table, clad in her dressing gown, a cup of tea steaming in front of her. 'I told you to go back to sleep,' he said, picking up his trainers next to the back door, and sitting down on a chair next to Ginny to tie the laces.

'I'm not sleepy,' she retorted, a wide yawn betraying her.

Harry rested his elbows on his knees and watched Ginny stare into her tea. He looked at his watch. He had five minutes left. He stood up and pulled Ginny to her feet. 'You know I love you, Ginevra,' he murmured.

'I know.' Ginny stretched up to softly kiss him.

Harry couldn't help himself. He pulled Ginny into the scullery, and tried to untie the sash of her dressing gown and undo his jeans at the same time. Unable to do it simultaneously, he cursed and hoisted Ginny to the countertop, then yanked the zipper of his jeans down impatiently, nearly slamming into her, as soon as he was free of his clothing.

It didn't take long. When it was over, Harry's head dropped to her shoulder, his breath harsh in her ears. 'I'm sorry,' he rasped.

'Don't be.' Ginny tightened her legs around his hips slightly, and turned her head to kiss Harry's mouth.

Reluctantly, Harry drew back and put his clothing to rights. He tenderly drew the edges of Ginny's dressing gown closed and shakily tied the sash into a knot. 'I love you, Ginny,' he whispered. 'I'll be back, soon. I promise.'

Ginny nodded, tears trembling on her lashes. 'I love you.' She gently pushed him toward the door. 'Go on, then. Before I won't let you go.'

Harry picked up his knapsack by the back door, and walked into the garden. Ginny followed him, needing to watch him leave. Harry quickly strode to the garden gate and the boundary to where he could Apparate.

The last thing he saw was Ginny's hair, glowing in the gloomy, overcast morning.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I know, it was a smidge smutty... koff But he is going to be gone for a while, and when words fail, like they have here, they will find another way to get it said. Actions speaking louder than words and all...


	9. Tied in Knots

Ginny watched Harry Disapparate, her breath coming in shallow pants. This was the first time they had really been separated since her sixth year. He had been on a few assignments, but nothing longer than a few days since Harry started working as an Auror. She turned and began to walk back into the kitchen, but stopped at the bench outside the door. Ginny braced her hands on the back of the weathered oak. _I will __not__ cry_, she thought fiercely. _Not now._ _I'm not going cry._ She inhaled slowly and let it out even more slowly. Ginny released her grip on the bench and stumbled into the kitchen. She left the untouched cup of tea on the table, quite forgetting about it. Ginny put one foot on the first riser of the stairs, to go back upstairs and so she could go back to bed.

That was as far as she got.

Ginny stepped away from the stairs and blindly made her way to the battered sofa in the sitting room. She sank heavily to the cushions, her eyes burning with tears she hadn't let herself shed when Harry was in the kitchen. She picked up a throw pillow, hugging it to her chest, her eyes shut tightly to the still house. Ginny pulled her bare feet onto the sofa and lay down, coiled into a comma of misery, still hugging the pillow.

* * *

Molly came down the stairs to the first floor and poked her head into Bill's room to check on James. He was still asleep. The door to Ginny's room was ajar, and feeling slightly guilty, Molly peeked into the room. _I'm not checking up on her_, she told herself. The bed was empty and unmade. She went to the kitchen and saw the cup on the otherwise empty table. Molly dipped a fingertip into the liquid. It was cold. She heard a muffled sob come from the sitting room, and quietly opened the kitchen door.

Ginny lay curled on the sofa, her face buried in a throw pillow, gasping for breath between the choking sobs. Molly quickly crossed the room, and Summoned an armchair from across the sitting room, and sat down next to the sofa. 'Ginny?' Molly's hand began to stroke Ginny's tangled hair. Molly had rarely seen Ginny cry like this. Only once in recent memory, and that had been thirteen years ago.

Ginny just shook her head, lips pressed so tightly together, they were white. She shivered, as if she were freezing.

Helpless, Molly remained on the chair, stroking Ginny's hair until the sobs quieted and the urgent gasps for air were replaced by Ginny's deep, even breathing, marred by an occasional hitch. She felt a hand land on her shoulder, and reached up to grasp it, knowing it was Arthur's. 'He'll be fine,' Arthur murmured. 'And she will be, too.'

Molly rose from the chair and picked up the afghan draped over the back of it. She spread it over Ginny and motioned to Arthur to go into the kitchen. 'Should we call everyone and cancel lunch today?' she asked worriedly, once they were in the kitchen.

Arthur tilted his head to the side, taking in his sleeping daughter's tearstained face through the open door. 'No.' He looked down at Molly. 'Let's keep things as normal as possible.'

* * *

Ginny pried her eyelids open. She slowly sat up, pressing her fingers to the ridge of her skull beneath her eyebrows. Her hands were like blocks of ice, but they felt soothing on her hot, swollen eyes. She squinted at the clock on the mantle. Eight-thirty. Groggily, Ginny pushed herself to her feet, and trudged up to Bill's room. James was sitting up in the cot, nearly frantically sucking his dummy. Ginny could tell he knew something wasn't right. She lifted him from the cot and held him tightly. 'Mummy,' James said softly, patting her face. 'Owie, Mummy.'

Ginny released her hold on James slightly. 'Sorry, James.' She tried to smile and kissed his cheek. With forced cheerfulness, she changed his nappy and dressed him for the day in something that could handle the rigors of a Weasley family lunch. The scent of bacon wafted up the stairs and Ginny took James into the kitchen, depositing him into a chair next to Arthur. 'I'll just go get dressed, then,' she told Arthur. 'Could you keep an eye on him for me?' Without waiting for an answer, Ginny went back up the stairs and into the bathroom.

Ginny turned on the taps, and waited for the water to heat up, slipping out of her dressing gown as she did so. She caught a whisper of something in the folds of heavy blue silk. Holding it up to her nose, she breathed in the scent of Harry that clung to the fabric. Tears welled up again and she hung the dressing gown on a hook on the back of the door, and then ducked into the spray of the hot shower, allowing herself to cry as she washed her hair, letting the tears mix with the water on her face. She was grateful nobody could hear her cry over the rush of water. Having Molly catch her earlier was beyond mortifying.

Ginny leaned against the wall, and let the water cascade down her back. _I hate this_, she huffed to herself. _I hate feeling like this._

* * *

Harry Apparated into the Atrium of the Ministry. He glanced at his watch on his way to the lifts. Five thirty-five. The trainees would be here at six. He hoped none of them were here yet. He needed a moment to collect himself. Leaving Ginny and James had been harder than he had expected. He knew it would be difficult. They were his life.

He didn't expect it to feel like a blow to his solar plexus. Being on the receiving end of one of Riddle's Cruciatus curses was a walk in the park compared to this.

He stabbed the button for the lift and waiting, trembling with the need to indulge in a few brief tears, but unwilling to do so in a public area, wanting to wait for the privacy of his office.

The lift chimed softly, and Harry got on, not seeing the witch in the back corner. He let the knapsack drop to his feet, and leaned against the wall.

The witch recognized him, of course. She wondered for a moment why on earth Harry Potter would be at the Ministry at a time when only the night shift of Obliviators was here. Privately, the witch thought Harry looked like his best friend had died, but as far as she knew Ron Weasley was still amongst the living. 'Mr. Potter?' she said quietly. When he didn't answer she repeated herself. When he didn't respond, she gently touched his shoulder.

Harry jerked at the unfamiliar touch on his shoulder and spun around to see a vaguely familiar witch standing behind him. He had worked with her a few times when the Aurors needed an Obliviator around. She was good at her job, and more importantly, she was discreet. 'Are you all right?' she asked.

Harry was tempted for a moment to tell the witch, _No, I'm not all right. I'm leaving my wife to go on an assignment and she will have no idea where I am. Oh, and she's nearly seven months pregnant. And I hate not being able to be with the one person who makes my life make sense. _But he just nodded. 'Yeah, I'm fine,' he said, clearing his throat a few times. The lift stopped at Level Two, and he snatched up his knapsack, darting down the corridor to the trainees' room. It was still blessedly empty.

He went into his office and slammed the door shut, leaning against it, shuddering. Harry slid to the floor, and rested his forehead on his knees. He drew in gulps of air and let the tears that had stung his eyes since Friday night drip down his cheeks. 'Oh, Ginny,' he moaned softly.

After a few minutes, Harry slowly exhaled and swiped his sleeve over his face and pulled his wand from his pocket. He conjured a face cloth, and like the night Rosie was born, used his wand to soak it in cold water. He pressed it to his face, hoping the trainees wouldn't notice his reddened and swollen eyes when they came. He looked at his watch. Five forty-five.

He pushed himself to his feet and picked up the knapsack. Harry stood for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to collect himself. He opened the door and closed it behind him, locking it with his wand. It wouldn't open for anyone except himself or Shacklebolt. He went down the corridor, the thick carpet muffling his steps as he approached the trainees' room.

He pulled out a chair at the round table facing the door, and sat down to wait for the trainees. He didn't have to wait long. The six second and third year trainees came in silently a few minutes later, each bearing a schoolbag in varying degrees of shabbiness. They stood around the table, looking at Harry. Harry flicked his wand at the door, and cast several Silencing charms on the room. 'We're going to Inverness,' he told them.

* * *

Charlie slid into his chair next to Bronwyn, his eyes gliding around the table. He frowned, carefully counting mentally again. _Someone's missing_,' he thought. He absently spooned sprouts on his plate, forgetting he hated sprouts. He picked up the platter of chicken, and looked down in surprise. The legs were still there. Harry usually snatched the legs off the platter at their end of the table before anyone else could. His head snapped up and he took another look around the table. 'Ginny? Where's Harry?'

Ginny turned her dark eyes on Charlie. He reared back a little at her nearly expressionless face. 'Mum, may I be excused?' Ginny asked. 'I'm not very hungry.' She pushed her chair away from the table and left the kitchen.

As the door swung behind her she heard Charlie ask in bemusement, 'What did I say?'

Ginny's first impulse had been to run up to her room, but when she opened the door, she saw Harry's t-shirt from the night before, lying crumpled on the floor next to the bed. She clattered back down the stairs and crept out the front door, walking toward the River Otter.

Ginny eased down on the bank, and pulled her shoes off. She didn't hear the footsteps behind her.

* * *

Arthur watched Ginny bolt from the kitchen. He gave Charlie a reassuring look. 'It's all right, son. You don't know.' Arthur pushed a few peas around his plate for a moment. 'Harry's away on an assignment.' He held up a hand, forestalling the expected torrent of questions. 'No, we don't know where, and no we don't know for how long. Ginny's not… She's not…'

Charlie flushed and looked down at his plate, pushing it away. He glanced at Bronwyn, and she just nodded. He briefly squeezed her hand, and left the kitchen as well, knowing just where Ginny was headed.

He had taught Ginny to swim in the river. The tree house had been Bill's refuge, but the river was his. Ginny's too. He espied Ginny's bright head, leaning against a tree. Her eyes were closed. 'Gin?' Charlie sat on the grass next to her. 'I'm sorry.'

Ginny opened her eyes. They were dry. 'You didn't know.' She shrugged and closed her eyes again. 'I didn't sleep much last night,' she said by way of explanation. 'I'm horribly hormonal right now. And I'm scared out of my bloody mind.' She reached for Charlie's hand. 'What if he doesn't come back?' she whispered. 'I can't do this alone.'

'You're not alone, Gin.'

Ginny smiled sadly. 'Could you imagine going into your house if Bronwyn died?'

Charlie started. Bronwyn's touch was all over the house. She was the one who kept the Spartan house on the dragon reservation looking like a home. If Charlie had been unmarried, he fancied he'd be one of those blokes who ate cold tinned beans straight from the tin, over the sink.

'I've been with him since I was seventeen. I've slept with him every night just about since…' Ginny let her head fall back against the tree trunk. 'Since before I was nineteen.' Her grip tightened on Charlie's fingers. 'I can't imagine raising our children or doing anything without him.'

* * *

Ginny sat at the table the a few mornings later, next to James, sharing a banana. James looked around the table, perplexed. 'W'ere Dahdee?' he asked Ginny, tugging on her sleeve.

'Daddy's at work,' she said. James only frowned at her. 'He'll be back soon,' she assured him. Her hands shook as she sliced half of the banana into a bowl. James asked every morning at breakfast, every evening at dinner, and every night when Ginny put him to bed. It was the same querulous question: where's Daddy. Ginny gave him the best answer she could. It was pointless to try to explain to a twenty month-old child that his father was an Auror, who was on a clandestine assignment trying to track down an idiot who felt it was appropriate to threaten family members of said Auror.

Ginny sat back and began to eat the rest of the banana, watching James. When Harry was around, she was always struck by how much James resembled Harry. But now that Harry wasn't here, Ginny could really see the flashes of Weasley in him. The eyes for one. Arthur's dark blue eyes. Charlie and Ron were the only ones out of all of them to get their father's eyes. And so far, James was the only grandchild to have them, too. He had her nose, but Harry's mouth. He looked like he might be tall and lanky like Arthur, Bill, Percy and Ron. His head tilted to the left when he was examining something new, like Percy's. But the hair. Oh, that hair. It was pure Potter. Ginny had held a photograph of Harry and James next to one of Harry's father, to compare the hair down three generations.

Bunny rolled lazily around, making Ginny rub her hand over her stomach. She wondered about this one. Would it be a girl this time, or another boy? Would it have red hair or black? Her dark brown eyes or Harry's vivid green ones? The baby wasn't due until August third. It was only May twenty-fifth now. _He'll be home way before that._ Maybe this one would be nearly two weeks late, like his older brother. Ginny snorted. She hoped not. She had enough memories of being pregnant in August with James. It was a miserable month to be pregnant.

* * *

Harry leaned against the lichen-covered boulder several feet from the door of the parchment-maker's house. He had spent most of the past two weeks, watching this door. There were Anti-Apparition jinxes on a twenty-yard radius around the house, so one had to Apparate at the end of the lane leading to the house. Only three people had come to the house the past two weeks, and all of them elderly men. Harry supposed she could be using Polyjuice, but he doubted it. Over the last fifteen years, Harry had learned to trust his instincts. She was so damn sure of herself anyway that Harry thought she wouldn't be bothered to use a disguise when she came to buy more parchment. She had to come soon. Iain said the man only made and sold parchment in small batches. Maybe three feet at a time. Shacklebolt had brought the latest batch of notes up the other day. All together they measured two-and-a-half feet of parchment. A thorough magical examination of the pieces of parchment revealed they had been torn from the same scroll.

He hunched his shoulders, trying to ease the tension that settled permanently across his shoulder blades. Harry was sure the constant drizzling damp wasn't helping, either. He sighed soundlessly, checking that the edge of the Invisibility Cloak still covered his trainers. When he wasn't keeping watch on the house here on the Isle of Skye, he was in Inverness, looking for _her_. She was no longer at the address they had. _Of course not_, Harry snorted. _That would be too easy_. But she _was_ still in Inverness. That much they knew. She had been seen in Inverness as recently as a week ago. Harry knew there were witches and wizards in Magical Law Enforcement who itched to get their wands on her. _It'll be too damn bad for them_, he mused. _They'll have to take a number and wait in line until after I'm done. I doubt there will be much left once Hermione gets through with her, too._

The magical community in Inverness wasn't large, and they tended to keep to themselves for the most part. Not out of a sense of moral superiority, but they lived fairly quiet lives, and didn't like to draw attention to themselves. She had to come out some time. There was one building in particular, close to the magical community, but firmly in the Muggle part of Inverness. It had an abandoned air about it that caught Kathleen's attention the first few days they were there. Abandoned, yes, but Kathleen thought she saw a flicker of light behind the windows. Brianna noticed the Muggles on the sidewalk just walked by it, as if it wasn't there. _Clever of her to use a Muggle-Repelling Charm._ That made it easier for her, and whoever she worked with, if she wasn't working alone, to get in and out without being detected by the Muggles. They could easily Apparate in and out of the back garden, and never use the front door. _Hell, they could Apparate in and out of the bloody house, and nobody would ever know._

The few times Harry had watched the house, he swore at times it was _too_ dark behind the smudged panes of glass. _Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, maybe?_ It would work, especially if they worried about wizards noticing anybody was in the dilapidated house.

Harry shifted his weight to his other foot, smirking. One thing Mad-Eye hadn't told them – a lot of Auror work was waiting for something to happen. The trick was to anticipate it. Some people thought Aurors were always chasing Dark wizards on the run, like that show on the wireless he knew Fleur listened to. Or like those American police television dramas Ron was hopelessly addicted to.

The sound of a wren drifted to his ear. Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw the faint shimmer of a trainee under a Disillusionment charm. It was Andre. He could mimic birds. He had a different signal for each of them. Harry performed a non-verbal Disillusionment on himself and pulled the Cloak off. The Disillusionment charms were best at night, overcast days, or rainy days. The faint distortions couldn't be seen. Harry didn't like Apparating under the Invisibility Cloak. 'Anything?' Andre murmured.

'No.' Harry took the opportunity to stretch. He felt, rather than saw, Andre's short nod. Andre folded his spare, compact frame against the boulder and began to watch the house. 'Be careful, all right?'

He Disapparated into the back garden of the small house they rented in wizarding Inverness. There were three rooms – four if you counted the tiny scullery off the kitchen/sitting room – and a bathroom. The girls slept in one room, and the boys in the other. Harry had set up a camp bed in the scullery. Not that he slept much, but he had started having nightmares again. At the very least, he could put Silencing charms on the scullery, so he didn't wake the trainees.

Harry removed the Disillusionment charm and slipped inside the back door. It was warm inside the kitchen area, and a pot of soup simmered on the back of the stove. Harry ladled soup into a bowl and hoisted himself to the counter to eat it, huddled next to the warm stove. He was chilly and damp from being outside all day. He looked inside the open scullery where a photograph of Ginny and James perched on the window sill. Ginny would have his hide if she knew he didn't either dry his damp clothing when he came inside or change into something dry. Even from his position on the counter, Harry could see the smudges his fingers had made on the glass in the frame. When he did manage to sleep, he often fell asleep with the frame clutched in his hands.

Harry looked into the sitting room area. Kevin and Moira were bent over a chessboard. Iain was stretched out on the sofa, a book propped open on his chest. Andre was out at the house near Totternish. Harry mentally checked the schedule. It was Brianna's turn to watch the Muggle house. 'Kathleen back yet?' he called to the others.

'She got back a few minutes before you did,' Kevin replied. 'She took some Pepper-Up and went to bed. Coming down with a cold,' he added, as he nudged a bishop into a new square.

Harry nodded and felt a little of the tension leave his shoulders. Everyone was accounted for, then. He finished his soup and washed the bowl before gathering his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. The three trainees in the sitting room would be up for a while longer, so Harry generally took a long shower about now. He had come out shirtless one night, to the howls of laughter from the trainees. He looked down and saw his skin was so pink, he resembled a boiled shrimp. The water had to be nearly unbearably hot. It was the only way Harry could relax.

Harry turned on the taps, once again silently thankful for magic, and being able to have instant hot water. He stepped into the tub, wincing as the steaming water hit his still-chilled skin. He grabbed a bottle of shampoo and closed his eyes as the lavender-sage scent wafted around him. It was as close as he could get to the scent of Ginny's hair. He'd nicked a bottle of her shampoo and tucked it in his bag before the left the Burrow. He knew it made him smell slightly girly, he didn't care.

He spent several long minutes leaning against the wall, letting the hot water sluice down his back. It soothed his aching shoulders and back. When he felt his knees start to turn to jelly, he turned the taps off and managed to dry himself and pull on his pajamas. Harry shuffled into the kitchen, and slipped into the scullery, closing the door behind him.

He collapsed on the camp bed, and picked up the picture of Ginny and James. It had been taken at Teddy's birthday party at the beginning of April. They were both laughing. Harry's fingertip traced the contours of Ginny's face. He missed her. He hadn't realized just how much he depended on her for his emotional equilibrium until now. Harry tiredly pulled his glasses off and set them on the window sill. The photograph blurred and he pulled it up closer to his nose. It didn't coalesce into something resembling a focused image. He blinked and the tears he was too exhausted to try and hold back trickled out of the corners of his eyes and into his damp hair.

He hoped – no, prayed – that Ginny was all right.


	10. Sufficient Unto the Day

'James, please…' Ginny struggled to put a nappy on James. He hadn't let her dry him completely after his bath, so he was still a bit slippery. James squirmed on the changing table as Ginny attempted to pin the nappy around his round belly. He rolled over and the pin Ginny was attempting to fasten slipped and jabbed into James' chubby leg.

James began to wail and, horrified, Ginny snatched him up, the half-fastened nappy sliding to the table's surface. She held him tightly to her, as best she could, given her increasing girth around the middle. 'I'm sorry, sweetie! Mummy didn't mean to do that,' she sniffed into James' hair.

'What's the matter?' Molly came into the room, tying the sash of her dressing gown.

'Nothing,' Ginny said irritably, checking the top of James' leg to see if he needed any kind of medical attention.

James pushed away from Ginny, nearly flipping backwards out of her arms. 'Dahdee!' he whined. 'Wan' Dahdee!'

Molly held out her arms. 'Here, let me take him.'

'I've got him, Mum,' Ginny sighed.

Molly's hands tightened on James. 'Ginny, dear, you look all done in. Let me put him to bed.'

James twisted frantically, trying to get away. 'Nooooo. Wan' Dahdee,' he moaned.

'Mum, it's fine,' Ginny said tightly, the back of her neck going red.

'Ginny, would you just let me –' Molly's voice was cut off by a pair of hands reaching between her and Ginny.

Arthur plucked James from Ginny and Molly's grasp. James went limp in his grandfather's arms, rubbing his face in the soft, worn flannel of Arthur's pajama top. Arthur turned to Molly and Ginny. '_I'll_ put James to bed.' He laid James on the table and expertly wrapped the clean nappy around James, deftly pinning it one-handed. 'Like riding a broomstick,' he murmured.

Ginny's shoulders slumped in defeat. She wordlessly followed Molly out of the Bill's room and into the landing. Molly put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. 'Ginny…'

'Not now, Mum, all right?' Ginny plodded slowly up the stairs to the bathroom. Ginny really didn't want to hear what ever it was Molly was going to say. She was going to feel like a failure either way.

Ginny turned on the taps in the bathtub and carefully stepped into the tub. She ached all over. Her feet were swollen, her back hurt, and Harry still hadn't come home. He had been gone for over two weeks. She missed Harry terribly. So did James. After standing for a few minutes, doing nothing, Ginny picked up a bar of soap, holding it to her nose for a moment, inhaling the aroma of sandalwood. She had gone back to the house a few days after Harry had left and slipped into their bathroom and stuffed a few bars of his soap into her bag. It was a poor substitute, but it was better than nothing.

Ginny took a leaf from her husband's book and drew her shower out as long as possible. It was a way for her to avoid Molly and the inevitable 'you're-doing-a-wonderful-job' conversation. Ginny didn't want to hear it. Again.

She shrugged on her dressing gown, and went into her bedroom, only to find Molly sitting on the edge of her bed. 'Mum, I'm really tired.'

'I'm sorry,' Molly said abruptly. 'For acting like that, trying to take over with James.' Molly twisted the end of her dressing gown's sash. 'I don't like seeing any of my children… Struggle like you've been doing.' Molly shrugged. 'I'm your mother, Ginny, and no matter how old you are, I'll always try to make it better for you.'

'I don't…' Ginny slumped next to Molly. 'I don't want you to make it better. I don't want you to think I can't do this on my own,' she said stubbornly.

'I know you can handle James. And everything else you're dealing with right now. That doesn't mean you can't ask for help.'

Ginny slid off the bed, and picked up her nightdress. 'I don't want to need to ask for help.' She looked at Molly. 'I've a long day tomorrow, Mum. Good night,' she said, in firm, but polite dismissal.

Molly stood up and brushed the hair from Ginny's face. 'Good night, Ginny.'

After Molly left the room, Ginny pulled the nightdress over her head, and crawled into bed. She looked at the stack of books on the night table with a sigh and picked up her knitting. She wasn't sleeping well lately. It was hard to sleep without Harry anymore. And when she did, she dreamed of being alone. The baby was also much more active at night than James had been. Bun slept all day, and ran marathons all night.

Ginny looked at the deep crimson yarn in her hands. She had started making a scarf for Harry for Christmas. She wondered if it was tempting fate a bit.

* * *

_Harry knew he was dreaming. The Ginny he saw had long hair. Down to the middle of her back. He could touch it. The coppery ripples slid through his fingers and flashed in the afternoon sunlight, before spreading over her bare back. She looked at him, a smile on her face, before she dove into the river._

_Harry watched her swim lazily, parallel to the riverbank, where he sat on an elderly blanket. 'Come on,' she said. 'I won't let you drown.'_

_Harry gingerly eased himself into the water, reminding himself that he had swum to the depths of the Black Lake at school. But he credited gillyweed for most of that ability. He could feel the current tug at his waist. Ginny floated on her back, her hair a sunburst of red drifting in the current. He squinted dubiously at the scraps of fabric she called a swimming suit. He liked the bikini well enough, but not where other people could see it. _

_Harry bent his knees until he was in the water up to his neck. He lifted his feet, and spread out his arms, mimicking Ginny's floating position. His fingers brushed against hers, and Harry closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of freedom._

* * *

Harry's eyes flew open. The palm of his hand was stinging. That was what had awakened him. He uncurled his hand from around the picture frame. Harry had gripped it so tightly, the corner cut into the skin over the life line. He made a moue of distaste at what Professor Trelawney would have said. He rubbed his other hand over his face. That was the one part of the River Otter they could swim without being swarmed by the press before Ginny's seventh year. Ginny had cajoled him into going swimming with her a few times, despite his protests he didn't really know how. She had taught him with the same ease he had taught her how to defend herself his fifth year.

Harry glanced impatiently down his body. _Stop it_! he thought. _She's not here._ He snorted at himself. Ginny didn't have to be here for his body to react that way. He sat up carefully, and swung his legs to the floor. Harry pulled his wand out from under his pillow and aimed it at the windows. All of them flew open silently, and cold air rushed into the scullery, chilling his flushed skin. He looked down at his hand, and considered and rejected healing it magically, but for some reason he couldn't, and didn't, want to define, Harry left the cut alone. It was deep enough to leave a scar.

Harry held the framed photograph of James and Ginny next to his heart. He could feel the vibrations of his heartbeat in the edges of the frame. Harry curled on his side, consciously aping his favorite pose to sleep, spooning Ginny. His free hand curved in front of him, trying to approximate how big she had gotten. This one was every bit as special to Harry has James' birth had been, and he silently cursed the witch he was charged with finding. She had caused so much havoc in his life.

* * *

_Harry opened the door of the house. He could hear James crying and began to run up the stairs, but no matter how fast he ran, the stairs leading up to the upper story grew longer and longer. Harry could feel a sense of apprehension growing in his stomach. It wasn't like Ginny to just let James cry like that. 'Ginny!' Harry stopped running, clutching the banister, as he panted, trying to catch his breath. James' cries grew increasingly frantic and Harry began to try to run up the stairs once more. _

_After what seemed like miles of stairs, Harry burst through the door where James sat in the middle of his cot. Harry picked him up and cautiously went back out on the landing, patting James on the back. 'Where's Mummy, eh?' he asked his whimpering son. James didn't answer, but hid his face in Harry's shoulder._

_Harry began to look through each room. They were eerily silent and still. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he shifted James to one hip, pulling his wand from his pocket. 'Hominum revelio,' he muttered, but nothing happened. Harry slowly went back to the ground floor, his arm instinctively tightening around James. 'I don't like this,' he told his son. Harry went into the kitchen._

_He saw a flutter of parchment on the table._

'_Wingardium leviosa,' he said, flicking his wand at it, and the parchment rose gracefully off the table. Keeping his wand trained on the now-floating parchment, Harry stepped closer to examine it. _

_The blood drained from his face when he saw the too-familiar cut-out magazine letters._

* * *

Harry sat up, drenched in a cold sweat, panting. He shoved his glasses on his face and began to take slow, deep breaths. _This is why Aurors shouldn't work on cases this close to home,_ he told himself. Shivering slightly, Harry reached for an old sweatshirt hanging on a hook and pulled it over his head. He picked up his watch from the windowsill and looked at the time. It was only four in the morning. Shrugging, he slid off the camp bed and eased the door of the scullery open, and padded into the kitchen. He stopped short in the doorway. Iain was already sitting at the table, a large mug of steaming tea in front of him. Iain looked up, surprised, then Summoned a mug from the cupboard. He filled it with tea, and pushed it toward an empty chair at the table. Harry accepted it gratefully. He looked at Iain over the rim of the mug. 'You don't sleep much do you?'

Iain chuckled quietly, and took a sip of his own tea. 'No. But I never had unfinished homework in school.' He wrapped his hands around the mug and gave Harry a searching look. 'Doesn't seem like you sleep much, either,' he commented casually.

Harry set his mug down. 'Sometimes,' he said simply, running a fingertip over the rim.

Iain propped his socked feet on one of the other chairs. 'You've got a little one, don't you?'

'Yeah. He's almost two.'

'Must be difficult. To be here.'

Harry raised a wry eyebrow. 'Just a little bit.'

Iain raised his mug to his lips. 'How does that work for you? Being married with a kid and being an Auror? I thought most Aurors opted to not get married in the first place. Occupational hazards and all.'

'Most don't,' Harry admitted. 'Or if they do, they either have a spouse who's incredibly amazing or they quit being an Auror at some point.' He began to unconsciously twist his wedding ring around his finger. 'It's a difficult life.' Harry let a corner of his mouth turn up briefly. 'Ginny, my wife, she's one of the extraordinary ones.' He took a swallow of his cooling tea.

'How much longer do you think this is going to take?'

'I don't know,' Harry sighed, gulping the rest of his tea and pouring more into his mug. 'Bet you never thought being an Auror would be so exciting,' he said deprecatingly. Harry closed his eyes, and a flash of the afternoon before James was born slipped through his head. 'It's like childbirth sometimes,' he said quietly. 'Long periods of waiting, followed by short, intense bursts of activity.'

'No kidding,' Iain grumbled.

'We'll get her.' Harry stretched his aching muscles. 'She'll cock up eventually.' He grinned mirthlessly. 'She always does.'

* * *

Ginny woke up, sitting up groggily. She looked at the alarm clock. 'Damn it!' She was late and supposed to be in Holyhead in forty-five minutes. Ginny heaved out of the bed, and sifted through the layer of clothing on the desk. She lifted a gauzy shirt to her nose, giving it a cautious sniff. 'Good enough,' she mumbled, rooting for a pair of trousers. It was almost too hot for trousers, Ginny thought, but as she rubbed the sole of one foot down the other shin, she grimaced. She hadn't shaved her legs since Harry left more than two weeks ago. Trousers it was, then.

Ginny ran into the bathroom and hastily brushed her hair and washed her face. She tried to brush her teeth and put the trousers on at the same time, but she dribbled mint-flavored foam on them. Ginny spat the toothpaste in the sink and managed to get the trousers into place, then yanked the top on. She clattered down the stairs and snatched up her bag by the back door. 'Mum!' she called out, one hand on the doorknob. 'Mum! I'm leaving!'

Molly came out of the scullery, a basket full bedclothes in her arms. 'Didn't you wear that shirt last Saturday?' She frowned at Ginny. 'I could swear you did. I haven't washed it yet.'

'It's fine, Mum,' Ginny protested. 'I have to go to Holyhead. I'll be back before dinner.' Ginny looked down at her watch. 'I think,' she added, before lunging out the door and into the garden. Ginny hit the garden gate and Apparated before the gate could swing shut again.

* * *

Ginny tucked her notes into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Gwenog Jones lingered in the private room of the Harpies' favorite pub in Holyhead, waiting for Ginny. 'You could always come back, you know,' she said casually to Ginny. 'When your sprogs are a bit older.'

'I could,' Ginny acknowledged, equally casual.

'I'd take you back in a heartbeat, Ginny. One of the best damn Chasers I've ever had.'

Ginny shrugged. 'Thanks, but I'm happy where I am, Gwenog.'

'How can you be happy sitting on the sidelines?'

'Because I wasn't happy on a broom anymore.' Ginny smiled reassuringly at Gwenog. 'I like doing this. I'm good at it. Maybe just as good at it as I was scoring goals.'

'Well then, if we have to have someone writing about us, I'd prefer it to be one of us.' Gwenog gave Ginny a rough, one-armed hug. 'Get that one on a broom, eh? The sooner, the better. Especially if it's a girl,' she said, patting Ginny's stomach. 'We'll see you Friday in Portree.'

Ginny nodded, and walked to the fireplace and Flooed to the _Prophet_ office.

Once safely ensconced at her desk, in the busy Quidditch section of the third floor, Ginny let herself consider going back to the team. She admitted there was a certain appeal about going back. She picked up a quill and without thinking, drew a line down the center of a piece of scrap parchment. _Pros_, she wrote at the top of one column. She scribbled, _Cons_ on top of the other. For thirty minutes, Ginny wrote down anything that came to mind that would be a good thing about playing again. She only wrote one thing in the minus side. She spent a few minutes looking over the list, before stuffing it into her bag.

The feature about the 2006-2007 Harpies team was much easier to write. They still had the same players from last season, all of whom Ginny knew quite well. She finished the article quickly, and took it to Eleanor's office. 'Eleanor?' she said, knocking on the door. 'Here's my piece.'

'Oh, Ginny, I was just about to come talk to you.' Eleanor pointed her wand at the door, and it swung shut behind Ginny.

'Oh. All right.' Ginny stood uncertainly on the braided rug in front of Eleanor's desk, the story held in her suddenly cold fingers.

Eleanor glanced up at Ginny. 'It's nothing serious, really.' She motioned to one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. 'Sit down before your ankles swell up to the size of hippogriffs.' Ginny obeyed with alacrity. 'When I was pregnant with my second, if I stood for more than twenty minutes at a time, my ankles started to resemble Cauldron Cakes,' Eleanor mused, winding her greying sable hair into a careless knot, stabbing an ordinary Muggle pencil through it. 'How far along are you, anyway?'

'Almost seven months.'

'Huh.' Eleanor gazed at Ginny. 'You don't look it.'

'Gah. I feel huge.'

Eleanor snorted. 'What do you see when you look down?'

Confused, Ginny glanced down at her toes. 'The toes of my shoes.'

'See? I couldn't see anything but baby when I was seven months along.'

Ginny laughed. 'Oh, with James, I was the general size and shape of a beached whale.'

Eleanor sifted through a pile of paper on her desk, trying to locate Ginny's file. 'So when do you think you're going to start your leave?'

'End of July, I suppose,' Ginny stammered. She hadn't really thought about it.

'Good. We'll have a few interns we can put on the Cannons and Falmouth by then, and those two can cover the Harpies while you're gone.' Eleanor glanced up at Ginny. 'You do know you can take up to a year off,' she stated.

'Uh, yeah, I guess…' Ginny mumbled, looking down at her hands.

Eleanor put her quill down and studied the young woman on the other side of her desk. 'I suppose the question should be if you want to take a year off.' She propped her chin into her hands. 'What's the problem?' she asked bluntly.

'I don't want to be away that long,' Ginny said, only slightly defensive.

'I won't give your beat to someone else,' Eleanor said baldly, having been at this too long to dance about the issue. 'Readers like having someone from the inside covering a team.'

'When do I have to let you know?' Ginny asked.

'Well…' Eleanor flipped through a small calendar. 'You get six months off automatically… Are you taking all six?'

'I was planning on it.'

'That's fine. It'll toughen the interns to cover the Cannons for that long. Make 'em grow thicker skins.' Eleanor glanced down at the calendar. 'Just let me know by February fifteenth if you're going to take the rest of the year, all right?'

Ginny nodded, and rose from the chair, and turned to leave. 'Oh! Here's the article.' She handed it to Eleanor. 'Thanks,' she said quietly.

'Don't mention it. I had too many arsewipe editors like Flanagan, too.' Eleanor grinned at Ginny.

* * *

Harry found himself disguised as an old man, sitting on a park bench in a rubbish-strewn square across the street from the abandoned house. He squinted in the early morning sunlight, and tried to peer through the murky darkness of the windows.

It had been a month. The trainees never complained about the long hours, or the enormous amounts of stress this put them through. They, like Harry, understood all too well it was a waiting game. 'Like chess,' Kevin had said. 'And it's their move.' Harry rearranged himself on the bench, grunting softly. Patience had never been one of his redeeming qualities.

Shacklebolt had been up last week to check in with them. He and Harry had gone into the back garden to talk privately. Ginny was fine. Shacklebolt had made a point to go by the Burrow on Sundays to check on her for him. The baby was fine, too. Ginny had been looking tired, Shacklebolt told him. Harry remembered she hadn't slept much when she was carrying James at this point. He wondered if she was freezing everyone in the Burrow, or just her room with that Cooling charm she had used in their Soho flat. James was doing well, too. He was a little clingy, though, and burst into frantic tears when Ginny had to leave to go to a game or to see Shanti for a check-up.

Harry shifted, trying to ease the numbness in his bum, when the wind shifted, coming off the loch. The front garden gate started to swing. It screeched, the rust on its hinges protesting mightily. The Muggles didn't even glance at it. Even Harry had to appreciate the skilled charm work, in spite of what it was for. The wind sent tendrils of chilly air down the back of his jacket. Harry shivered as they trailed down his spine.

* * *

'DAHDEE!'

Ginny sat bolt upright as James' anguished cries penetrated through to her brain.

'DAHDEE!'

She threw the bedclothes off and stumbled into the chair at her old desk, stubbing her toes. 'Bloody, effing, hell,' she growled, rubbing the offended toes on top of her other foot, being unable to reach them normally.

'DAHDEE!'

Ginny yanked the bedroom door open and walked blindly across the landing to Bill's room.

'DAHDEE!'

She pushed open the bedroom door. James sat in the middle of the cot, his eyes filled with tears. 'Shhhhh,' she said, trying to pick him up. He flailed in her arms.

'Wan' Dahdee! WAN' DAHDEE!' he wailed.

Ginny managed to shift James to one hip, and slowly sank onto her knees to the rug in front of the cot. James struggled to get free, but Ginny held him tightly to her. 'Wan' Dahdee,' he moaned.

'So do I, James,' Ginny whispered.

'Dahdeeeee,' he whimpered in reply.

Ginny simply held him in her arms, rocking him slowly, like she did when he was a baby. He eventually quieted and went back to sleep, tears drying in silvery tracks on his cheeks.

* * *

Upstairs, in their bedroom, Arthur put a restraining hand on Molly's arm, when she started to get up as James' cries reached the fourth floor. 'She won't appreciate it, Molly.'

'But…'

Arthur shook his head. 'You know Gin. If she wants it, she'll ask for our help. She'll want to be alone for this.'

Molly sat up, leaning against the ancient headboard. She picked up a bundle of knitting from the night table, and began to work on a blanket. She couldn't do nothing.

James' cries ebbed away after several tense minutes. Molly put the knitting down and slid out of bed. She tiptoed down the stairs and peeked into Bill's room. Ginny sat awkwardly on the floor, James in her lap. She rocked back and forth, her eyes fixed on something Molly couldn't see.


	11. Coming Apart at the Seams

The sun creeping over the windowsill woke Ginny. She tried to move, but James' sleeping body draped over her lap made it impossible. Ginny was grateful that James could sleep through just about anything, and eased him off her lap to the rug. She decided to leave him there. There was no way she would be able to pick him up and put him in the cot from the floor. Ginny groaned to herself as she forced her stiff muscles from their position and leveraged herself to standing. She stood for a moment, trying to stretch the muscles in her back, but it ached abominably. _That's what I get for sleeping on the floor,_ she thought sardonically. Ginny reached into the cot and pulled out the light blanket she'd draped over James last night. She spread it over him, and shuffled out of the room.

The sounds and scents of Molly making breakfast reached Ginny and she went downstairs to the kitchen. Molly already had a basket of warm scones on the table. Ginny picked one up and re-tucked the tea towel around the others. 'Is James all right?' Molly asked.

'Yeah,' Ginny said. She rolled her head a few times trying to ease the kinks in her neck, and rubbed her lower back a few times. 'Mum?'

'Hmmmm?'

'Can you… Could you…' The words stuck in Ginny's throat. She swallowed a few times; wryly noting it seemed as if she was trying to literally swallow her pride before she tried again. 'Would you please go get James up in about an hour?' she asked in a low voice.

Molly just managed to keep the surprise off her face. 'Of course,' she said nonchalantly, but heaving a silent sigh of relief that Ginny had finally asked for help.

'I think I'm going to go back to bed,' Ginny stated. 'I don't feel very well.'

Molly turned and looked at Ginny. She didn't look well at all. 'Want me to bring you some breakfast on a tray later?'

Ginny made a face at the idea of eating. 'No thanks, Mum. I'm not really hungry.' Ginny trudged back to the stairs and headed straight to her room. She closed the door, and looked down at the scone in her hand in a daze. She didn't remember picking it up. Ginny laid the still-warm scone on her night table and crawled into bed. She picked up her wand and cast the Cooling charm she'd used when she was pregnant with James on the room. The temperature dropped several degrees and Ginny sighed in relief. It was entirely too hot in the house. Ginny rolled over, wedging a pillow between her knees and squirmed a few times, trying to ease the nagging ache in her back. 'Why didn't I use the armchair?' she grumbled to the other pillow, on what would have been Harry's side of the bed. _You weren't thinking that's why_.

She yawned widely, and closed her eyes, falling into what she thought of as waking sleep. Ginny slept, but she could hear Molly wake up James, and James' giggles as Arthur carried him down the stairs on his back. Ginny heard Ron come in the kitchen early to help prepare lunch. It all felt so far away, it might as well have been a dream to her. She didn't know how long she had lain there when she opened her eyes. Hermione stood next to the desk, a scrap of parchment in her hands, Rose in a sling, cuddled to her chest. 'What's this?' Hermione asked, holding it out to Ginny.

Ginny sat up, and took the parchment from Hermione, frowning. Her eyes widened as recognized the pro/con list she had made after interviewing the Harpies two weeks ago. 'Nothing,' she muttered, crumpling it up in her hand. She glanced at the desk, and noticed her bag had fallen from the chair to the floor. _Must have knocked it off the chair last night._

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, retrieved the parchment and smoothed it out. 'I see Gwenog asked you to come back,' she remarked.

'Yeah.'

'Are you serious? About this list?'

Ginny pulled the parchment from Hermione's hands. 'I don't know.' She rolled a corner between her thumb and forefinger. 'I love writing for the _Prophet_,' she said.

'But…?' Hermione prompted.

'Who says there's a "but" in there?' Ginny huffed.

'It's flashing like neon,' Hermione replied dryly. 'But…?'

'Part of me wants to go play again, just so it's not always me stuck here waiting.' Ginny tore the parchment in half, then into quarters, and kept tearing until it was a pile of small squares. 'Or so that _he_ has to make a few sacrifices.' Ginny twisted around, stretching her back. The nap hadn't seemed to help.

'Ginny, I know you're upset, but it's his job.'

'I know that,' Ginny snapped.

Hermione didn't say anything. She remembered all too well the hormonal mood swings that made everything rational seem completely irrational. Instead, she scooped the pile of confetti into her hands and dropped it into the small bin under the desk.

Ginny felt the prickle of tears in her eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she breathed. 'I don't really have an excuse.'

'Sure you do. It's hot, you're tired, you've got more hormones than blood in your veins.' Hermione shrugged. 'It's all right. We've all been there.' Hermione leaned to give Ginny a one-armed hug. Ginny felt her shoulders relax a bit. 'Do you really want to go back?' Hermione asked gently.

'Not really,' Ginny admitted, her head bent. 'I'm just tired of being left behind all the time,' she confessed. 'You three have done that to me for years. You have your…' Ginny waved a hand around helplessly. 'Thing,' she finished. 'You have this circle with each other and it's horribly difficult to break into it.' She gulped back a sob. 'And you don't see it. How can you? You're married to Ron. You married part of your circle, and I've been drifting on the outside of it since I was eleven.' Ginny wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheet.

Hermione sat back, horrified. She knew Harry, Ron, and she were closer to each other than most anyone else, but ever since Ginny's last year of school, she had assumed they included Ginny in their friendship. _Have we really shut her out that much?_ 'Ginny, I…'

Ginny drew in a deep breath, wiping her cheeks with her hands. 'I'll be down in a little bit,' she choked. 'It must be close to lunchtime.'

Hermione left the room in bewilderment. She made a beeline for the kitchen, where Ron was directing the loaded platters and bowls to the table with his wand. 'Did we do the right thing?' she asked bluntly.

'What?'

'With Ginny? By not letting her in on what was going on with Harry and the case?'

'No,' Ron replied automatically. 'We should have told her. We should have told everybody.'

'Do we shut her out? You, me and Harry?'

Ron let the last bowl of potatoes fall to the table. 'I can see how she'd feel that way,' he said slowly. 'We're almost closer than Fred and George were.' He reached into the sling and gently lifted Rose out. 'What brought this on?' he asked, baffled. Hermione told him about the parchment that had fallen out of Ginny's bag and their conversation about it. His eyebrows rose into the hair that fell over his forehead. 'She could just be babbling nonsense,' he ventured. 'She is seven-and-a-half months pregnant. You didn't exactly make much sense at times yourself, hen.'

'I'm not so sure.' A faint crease appeared between Hermione's eyebrows. 'This doesn't feel like hormonal rubbish.'

Ron leaned over and kissed Hermione. 'When Harry gets back, I'll have a word with him about it. Will that make you feel better?'

'Don't do it to appease me,' Hermione said mulishly.

'I'm not.' Ron chewed his lip for a moment. 'D'you think she'll go back? To the Harpies?'

'Ordinarily, I'd say no, but I think the only reason she's halfway considering it is to get some sort of revenge.'

'That's an awfully strong word.' Ron murmured as the kitchen door swung open, and the family trickled in, taking their places around the table. Arthur dragged James' high chair from its usual place and wedged it between his chair and Percy's. Charlie swung James into the high chair. Ron watched at Arthur put some mashed potatoes and carrots on James' plate, then carefully shredded a small piece of roast beef before pushing the plate within the reach of James' spoon. _That's odd. Ginny usually does that._ He automatically piled food on his own plate, one-handed while he held Rose, and looked at Ginny from the corner of his eye. _She doesn't look well._

Ginny was rapidly reaching a level of crankiness she hadn't seen in two years. Her back wouldn't stop hurting, and the sight of all the food made her more than a bit nauseated. She put some mashed potatoes on her own plate, and a spoonful of peas. She was so tired. Ginny felt as if she couldn't keep her head up. She propped it on a hand and used her fork to push the food around her plate. She didn't notice the worried glances her mother and sisters-in-law kept sending her way. She refused the pudding and never heard the urgent whispered conversation that sent the men and children outside to the back garden. She was so wrapped up in her own swirling thoughts, that when Bronwyn laid a gentle hand on Ginny's shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Bronwyn slid into the chair next to Ginny. 'How are you feeling?' she asked conversationally.

'I'm fine,' muttered Ginny. She pushed away from the table and tried to stand up, but Fleur's hand landed on Ginny's other shoulder.

'You do not look "fine",' she declared. 'You hardly ate anyzing.'

'I'm just tired,' Ginny protested weakly. 'And my back hurts,' she added.

Bronwyn met Molly's eyes over the top of Ginny's head. 'Oh? What's it like?'

'It bloody hurts,' ground out Ginny, in no mood for games.

'No, I mean is it worse now than when your back started hurting, or does it really hurt, then not so much?'

'It's the same,' Ginny said irritated. 'It really hurts, and nothing I've done seems to make it better.'

Bronwyn gently squeezed Ginny's shoulder. 'And how long has your back hurt, _cariad_?'

Ginny ran a hand through her hair. 'Since this morning when I woke up.' She thought for a moment. 'I think that's what woke me.' Ginny shook her head. 'I just slept in an odd position, that's all.'

Bronwyn pulled Ginny to her feet. 'Let me check things out? Just to make me feel better?'

'It's nothing,' Ginny said flatly.

'Then there's no harm in seeing, is there?'

Faced with being bodily carried up to her room, Ginny snarled, 'Fine.' She stalked up to her bedroom, and shoved the door open. Bronwyn shut the door, shot a thorough _Scorgify_ at her hands, and conjured a pair of gloves. Ginny settled on her bed and wriggled out of her trousers and knickers. 'This is nothing, but a backache,' she muttered, her face slowly turning bright red.

'How far along are you again?'

'Thirty-four weeks.' Ginny heard a faint note of panic in her voice.

Bronwyn frowned and began to examine Ginny. Her breath caught, but she was able to hide it. _Damn it_, Bronwyn thought. 'All right, Ginny. You can get dressed.' Bronwyn stripped the gloves off and Vanished them. 'Why don't you stay up here, and have a bit of a rest?'

Ginny waited until Bronwyn left and pulled her knickers back on. She lay staring at the ceiling, still unwilling to think it was anything other than back pain, but the way Bronwyn's eyes had tightened left the bitter, metallic taste of unease in her mouth. Ginny rolled to her side, wincing as the pain in her back intensified.

* * *

Bronwyn hastily walked back into the kitchen. 'Well?' Molly demanded.

'She's dilated a few centimeters, but that's it. We'll need to keep an eye on her, though, if her water breaks.'

'How bad will it be if she delivers now?' Katie spoke up from her chair. Premature delivery had been a concern with Fred and Jacob.

Bronwyn rubbed a hand over her face. 'Depends. The baby could be fine, or not. She's thirty-four weeks – long enough for the baby to not have any major issues, but still a bit too early for my liking. If she can hang on for one more week –' A cry from upstairs interrupted her.

* * *

Ginny was worrying the edge of Harry's pillowcase between her thumb and first two fingers, when she felt something trickling between her thighs. She assumed it was just sweat, since Hermione had lifted the Cooling charm earlier, and Ginny hadn't reset it. Ginny rolled back onto her back, and reached for her wand, to reset the charm. It was stifling in the room. Ginny grunted, trying to reach the wand, but her questing fingers pushed it off the night table. She dropped her hand, and thought it might take too much effort to retrieve the fallen wand, until she felt another trickle of fluid. It was the last straw for Ginny. She sat up and put her feet on the floor, standing up to pick up the errant wand.

The gush of liquid running down her legs pushed all the air from Ginny's lungs. She stood in dismay, watching it soak into the braided rag rug next to the bed.

It was then that Ginny realized things had spun quite out of her control.

So she did the only thing she could do. She screamed in pain, anger, loneliness, and frustration.

'Noooooooo!'

She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, idly noting the droplets on her bare feet. _It's too early_, she thought numbly. _It's too early and Harry's not here_.

Her head jerked up as Bronwyn barreled through the door. 'My water broke,' she said miserably.

'It's all right, _cariad_. We'll get you to St. Mungo's.'

Ginny nodded and let Bronwyn guide her to the door. 'Wait!' she said suddenly. 'I should put my trousers back on.'

* * *

The family huddled in the waiting area of St. Mungo's, faces tense and drawn. They looked up anxiously, every time the door leading to the patient rooms opened. Shanti came out a few times, and spoke with Molly and Arthur, their voices hushed and taut with fear. Shanti came out now, and approached Molly and Arthur. She Summoned a chair, and sat down. 'She's progressing and it looks like the baby's coming. Tonight.'

Molly took a deep breath and stood up. 'I'd like to be with Ginny.'

Shanti nodded and escorted Molly back to Ginny's room. Arthur watched his wife disappear through the swinging double doors, and turned his hooded blue gaze to his sons. Arthur knew he gave off a slightly barmy air, but he could be coldly calculating when need be. It was something his sons had never quite figured out. He braced his hands on his knees and stood up, going to Percy.

Percy sat in a chair, leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs, looking at the tiled floor. Arthur lightly touched the back of his head. 'Perce?' he said softly. 'A word?'

Percy looked up and nodded, biting his lip. He pushed himself to his feet and followed Arthur to a corner of the waiting area. 'What do you need, Dad?'

'It's not what I need. It's what your sister needs.' Arthur took his glasses off, and polished them with a handkerchief he took from his pocket. 'I know you know how to get a message to Harry.' When Percy nodded, Arthur continued. 'I wouldn't ask, but Percy, this is an emergency. Ginny needs him here.'

Percy ran his hands through his hair, sending the customarily-neat curls into frizzy disarray. 'I know…'

Arthur grasped Percy's upper arm in his shaking hand. 'This isn't just anybody, Percy, this is your _sister_,' he hissed.

Percy looked down at his father's hand, and back up into Arthur's apprehensive face. 'I'll go see the Minister right now,' he said mildly.

Arthur's hand tightened reflexively on Percy's arm. He pushed his glasses up a bit and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'I'm sorry… It's just…'

'I know, Dad.' Percy hesitated for a brief moment, then gave Arthur a hug, and walked briskly to Penny, and bent to whisper in her ear. Penny pulled Percy down for a soft kiss, then Percy walked just as briskly to an Apparition point.

Percy Apparated in front of Shacklebolt's house in London. He nervously straightened his glasses, and walked up to the door, pressing the doorbell. He heard voices inside, and waited with a sense of sick dread.

* * *

Shacklebolt opened the door to reveal his brother Gareth, and his partner Rafael. 'What did you two do? Leave as soon as exams were done?'

'We start before you do here, and get out earlier,' pointed out Rafa.

'But we did get on the first Portkey to New York then from there to London,' Gareth said. 'Had to wait in that international Portkey terminal at LaGuardia for ages.' He greeted his elder brother with a warm embrace. 'The kids were insane the last week or so.'

Shacklebolt turned his attention to Rafa. 'I'll bet you were packed two weeks ago.'

'Better than throwing everything in the night before like some people I could name,' Rafa drawled, glancing pointedly at Gareth. 'Kept me up all night with the packing and swearing about International Portkey weight limits.' He held up a restraining hand as Shacklebolt started to embrace him as well. 'Oh, Kingsley, no, I stink like Portkey terminal.'

'Like that matters,' Shacklebolt laughed. He turned toward the front door, as the bell buzzed. 'Who on earth?' Shacklebolt warily opened the door, to be confronted by the sight of Percy Weasley. It was not a Percy Weasley Shacklebolt knew.

For Percy, casual Friday meant he loosened his tie. His hair was never mussed or out of place. While most people assumed Percy had a rod shoved up his arse, Shacklebolt knew it was out of a sense of respect that Percy showed up to work dressed the way he did.

This Percy was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a comfortable sweatshirt from his brothers' shop. His normally neat hair was standing on end. 'Percy?'

'May I come in?'

Shacklebolt opened the door wider and wordlessly stepped back in invitation. Percy went inside, and before Shacklebolt could shut the door he said, 'I need Harry,' in a low, intense voice. 'Well, _Ginny_ needs Harry right now.'

'What's wrong?' Shacklebolt felt a prickle of alarm run its fingers down his spine.

'It's the baby.' Percy shoved his hands into his pockets. 'She's having the baby. Now.'

Shacklebolt's Auror training snapped into place. 'Go back to St. Mungo's. I'll have Harry there no later than midnight. Maybe a bit later.' He showed Percy out, and went back into the sitting room, where Gareth and Rafa had settled on the sofa. Shacklebolt looked between the two of them, before settling his piercing gaze on Rafa. 'Rafa, I need to be you.'

'Oh, Kingsley, honey, we've talked about that,' Rafa said teasingly. 'It takes years to attain the level of fabulousness that is me.'

'Not now, Rafa. I _need_ to be you.'

Rafa and Gareth sat up straighter at the brusque tone in Shacklebolt's voice. 'What do you need?' Gareth asked.

Kingsley strode to a liquor cabinet and pressed a hidden button. A door swung open, revealing an array of small glass vials, filled with a thick, murky, grey liquid. 'I need some of your hair, Rafa.' He mentally calculated how long he would be in Scotland. 'Several strands.' Kingsley handed Rafa an empty vial. 'Put them in here.'

'That's a lot of Polyjuice,' Gareth commented, as he used his wand to perform a Severing charm on his lover's hair.

'You never know,' Shacklebolt muttered.

Rafa handed Shacklebolt the vial, all traces of laughter gone from his face. 'You'll need some of my clothes,' he said, going to his bags. 'I'm a lot shorter than you.' Rafa dug into a neatly-packed bag. 'How long will you be gone? More than a day?'

Kingsley nodded. 'A week. That's as long as I can be gone from the office and be unreachable.'

Rafa upended his smaller bag onto the floor, and swiftly packed three days' worth of clothes into it. 'Here.' He pulled a pair of trainers from another bag. 'My feet are smaller, too.'

Gareth laced his fingers together. 'Mind telling me what's going on?'

'You remember Harry?' At Gareth and Rafa's nods, he continued, 'His wife is in preterm labor, and he's working on a delicate case. I can't go as me, I'm too recognizable.' Kingsley went to his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment. He scribbled a note to Percy, informing him he would be out of the office for a week. Shacklebolt tapped it with his wand, sealing to it all but Percy, and took it to his owl. 'Take it to Percy. He's at St. Mungo's right now.' The owl flew off with a rush of wings.

Shacklebolt stripped to his boxers, and dropped one of Rafa's hairs into a vial. It flared, then settled to a softly glowing green. Shacklebolt saluted his family with the vial, and tossed it back. 'I can see why Gareth likes you so much,' he joked before the effects began to take place. After a few minutes, Shacklebolt pulled on Rafa's clothing and picked up the bag. 'Thanks,' he told them quietly.

Shacklebolt looked around his sitting room and his eyes lit on an empty butterbeer bottle. He pointed his wand at it. '_Portus_,' he muttered. The bottle glowed blue, then faded. Shacklebolt shoved his wand into the pocket of Rafa's trousers, then grasped the bottle in his free hand.

He slammed into the ground of the back garden of the small house in Inverness. Harry was sitting on a low brick wall outside, a bottle of butterbeer cradled in his hands.

Harry jumped up, simultaneously drawing his wand from his pocket when the strange man picked himself up from the ground, the bottle falling to the bricked-in area, smashing into pieces, splattering butterbeer. 'Who the bloody hell are you?' he snarled, keeping the wand trained on the man three feet in front of him.

'It's me, Kingsley.'

Harry's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. 'What did Mad-Eye say to me about wand handling when you picked me up from the Dursleys' before my fifth year?'

'That you'd lose a buttock if you put it in your back pocket,' Shacklebolt answered promptly.

Harry warily lowered the wand. 'Kingsley? What…? Why…?'

'Remember my brother's partner? Rafa? Teaches in San Francisco?'

'Yeah…'

'It's Polyjuice.'

'Oh.' Harry waved his wand at the mess on the bricks and sat back on the wall. 'Is something the matter, then?'

'It's Ginny.' Shacklebolt perched next to Harry. 'She's having the baby.'

Harry jumped up from the wall. 'What? Now?' he yelled.

'She's in labor, and I promised to get you to St. Mungo's by midnight.'

'But I… I…' Harry stammered.

'One week. Go to St. Mungo's and be with your wife, but you have to be back here in one week.' Shacklebolt pulled Harry back to the wall. 'You can't go yet, though. I need for you to fill me in on your schedules and methods.'

Harry glanced impatiently at his watch. 'Right.' He led the way into the kitchen.

Three hours later, he stood in the back garden, next to Shacklebolt. 'I'll be back next Sunday evening,' he said, shifting his knapsack to his shoulder. 'I'm ready.'

Shacklebolt pointed his wand at a dented soda can one of the trainees found in the alley behind the house. '_Portus_,' he said, and the soda can glowed brightly in the darkness. Shacklebolt squeezed Harry's arm. 'It'll be all right,' he said, trying to reassure the tense young man.

Harry smiled weakly. 'I hope so.' He picked up the soda can, and felt the familiar jerk behind his navel and in moments landed in a heap on the street outside St. Mungo's.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. :)

'Cariad' is Welsh for 'darling', or so says the Welsh-English dictionary that the University of Wales, Lampeter has online. (If you haven't guessed, Bronwyn is Welsh...) If it's wrong, please let me know so I can fix it. :)


	12. The Bottom Falls Out

George got up. He couldn't stand to just sit and wait anymore. Katie was curled up in her chair, sound asleep, and the boys were in the travel cot. Jacob was asleep, but Fred was still fighting it, blinking slowly at his stuffed dragon. George began to pace around the room. Percy had come back an hour ago, with word that Shacklebolt was going to fetch Harry. George glanced around the waiting area. Half an hour earlier, Shanti had come out to speak with Bronwyn and Bronwyn hurried through those damned double doors with Shanti. George was pretty sure there was some sort of rule about Healers treating family members, but considering she was one of the Healers at the dragon reservation where Charlie worked, he figured she had to have treated Charlie sometimes. _Maybe that's different_, he thought.

George kept his eyes trained on the doors, willing one of them to come out and say Ginny was fine, she wasn't really in labor, and everybody could go home. George remembered the near-daily terror he had lived in that Katie would deliver early. He had read everything he could get his hands on about a multiple pregnancy and the knowledge of what could go wrong with a preterm birth sent shivers down his spine.

George paced by Arthur, who sat on a sofa, James sleepily sucking his thumb next to him. James' dark head lay in his grandfather's lap, and his eyes drifted shut, only to fly wide open a few seconds later. Arthur met George's eyes and lifted an inquiring eyebrow. George just shrugged, tilting his head toward the double doors. Arthur nodded and George resumed his restless pacing.

The sound of the doors opening, and Bronwyn, Molly, and Shanti emerged and gathered around Arthur. George doubled back, feeling a bit guilty at eavesdropping, but Ginny was his baby sister, and he was going to do whatever he could to make sure she was all right. Arthur's stern lecture before his fourth year echoed in his mind. _She's your baby sister, and you will look out for her. It's your responsibility to take care of her._ Every time George remembered that conversation, he burned with shame that he and Fred hadn't done a better job that year. _Actually, we didn't do any sort of job with it_, he thought guiltily.

George caught snatches of their conversation. 'Baby's ready to come out.' 'She won't…' 'Maybe we should…' George looked at the doors thoughtfully. _If there's ever a time to make up for not being a better brother, now is it._ He looked over his shoulder, and made his way to the doors, slipping through them. George swiftly glanced at the name tags on the doors, and found the one labeled 'Ginny Potter'. He opened the door and sidled inside the room.

* * *

Shanti looked at Ginny. 'It's time, Ginny.'

'No.' Ginny rolled over to her side and pressed her knees together. 'It's too early.' ­_And Harry's not here…_

'Regardless, he's coming now, whether you think it's time or not.' Shanti let one of her hands rest on Ginny's ankles.

'No,' Ginny repeated, closing her eyes. 'I'm going to wait for Harry.'

Shanti and Bronwyn exchanged worried looks. If Ginny didn't deliver the baby soon, they were going to have to take matters into their own hands and force a potion down her throat, rendering her unconscious and deliver the baby. Molly smoothed a wet cloth over Ginny's face. 'Ginny, please be reasonable,' she murmured. 'This isn't good for the baby.'

'No.'

Shanti, Bronwyn, and Molly left the room, and went to speak to Arthur. In light of Harry's absence, Molly and Arthur would be able to grant Shanti permission for any medical interventions.

Arthur listened to Shanti's urgent voice. He didn't hear what she was saying exactly, but he knew that calm, steady voice was telling him his only daughter, and her child, were in danger. Arthur looked down at James. He had finally fallen asleep. Arthur gently rubbed James' back, feeling the deep, even breaths of his grandson's slumber. He looked up at Molly, his pained blue eyes, meeting her anxious brown ones. 'Do what you need to do,' he pronounced carefully. Their insistent conversation flowed over him. Arthur's gaze dropped back to James.

None of them noticed George slip through the double doors and head for Ginny's room.

* * *

Ron held Rose in her sling, trying not to overhear the strident whispers by his parents. When he and Ginny were children, they were each other's mate. He was just eighteen months older than Ginny. They often found themselves thrown together – too young to play with the twins. Ron had frequently found Ginny a nuisance, but he didn't realize how entwined she was in his life until she was taken to the Chamber his second year. Ron shivered slightly at the memory.

He felt something bump his chest and looked down. Rose was trying to root through his shirt, her head turned to his chest, rosebud lips smacking. 'Hungry are you?' Ron turned his head to look at Hermione. She had gone to sleep and he didn't want to wake her. He carefully leaned down toward the bag on the floor at his feet, and flipped it open. A stash of bottles, with Freezing charms on them, waited in an insulated pocket. Ron took one out and closed the bag. His wand was in the pocket on the side. He pulled it out and aimed a Warming charm at the bottle. Ron picked up the bottle and awkwardly sprinkled a few drops on the inside of his wrist. It seemed all right, so he licked the drops from his wrist and maneuvered the bottle's nipple into Rose's mouth. 'There you go, Rose-bud.'

'Did you just lick your wrist?' Charlie's question carried tones of revulsion.

'It's just breast milk,' Ron replied indifferently. He glanced up at Charlie. 'Like you never tried it,' he scoffed.

'Oh… Uh…' Charlie went beet red under his freckles.

Ron grinned and turned his attention back to his daughter. He watched her for a few minutes, before his thoughts sobered. Ginny wasn't usually irrational like this. He worried that if Harry didn't arrive soon, he might be confronted with an even bigger mess than he'd left behind on his mission.

* * *

Charlie fidgeted in his chair. Patience was not a Weasley virtue. Especially not with him. He remembered the interminable hours of Isabella's birth. After the first twelve, they had gone to the small infirmary on the reservation. Jack Kinneally, one of the other Healers, had sent them down to London. The infirmary didn't handle complicated childbirths, and Jack had been concerned enough to make Charlie and Bronwyn Floo to St. Mungo's. By then, it was nearly four in the morning, and the first thing they did was give Bronwyn something to ease the pain so she could sleep.

It took thirty hours for Isabella to be born.

Afterwards, Charlie had watched Bronwyn sleep, clutching Isabella in his arms. He was certain Isabella would be their only child. He didn't want to put her in that kind of pain again. He didn't want to put himself through that kind of pain again. It had been emotionally agonizing to watch Bronwyn struggle to give birth. He was afraid he might lose her the next time. And after so many years of drifting apart from his family, he'd finally found a niche in this world for himself with Bronwyn.

Charlie sighed and shifted in the chair. A fresh wave of guilt washed over him. He'd left England for Romania before Ginny and Ron even started school. He'd been away most of their lives, either at school or in Romania. Charlie had left school early just to be less of a burden on his parents, but deep down, he knew he had almost fled to Romania. He could have done the same kind of internship in Wales and been closer to home, but he had longed to be seen as separate from everyone else. So Romania it was.

He wondered if Bill felt the same way. After all, he'd gone even further away to Egypt as soon as he finished school. Bill had left for school when Ginny was just a few weeks old, so really, Charlie wondered how well did either of them know Ginny?

* * *

Bill watched Charlie fidget restlessly in his seat. He methodically cracked his knuckles, bending and stretching the fingers until they popped. Bill didn't feel guilt for being away from his family for so long. On the contrary, he felt a wave of anger at Harry. Bill didn't understand how Harry could have left Ginny alone and pregnant like he did. That first lunch, when Arthur told them Harry was on a mission; Bill had bit his lip and kept his comments to himself. He'd seen the way Ginny's face had paled when Charlie opened his big mouth and asked the question everybody was thinking, but smart enough not to verbalize.

Bill hadn't said anything until he and Fleur had gone home to Shell Cottage and put Victoire and Madeline to bed. The anger that had built up all day bubbled over as he squeezed toothpaste on his toothbrush. It seemed like half the tube squirted out into the sink. Fleur merely raised a silvery brow, and silently scraped some of the excess toothpaste onto her own toothbrush. Bill, for his part, had brushed his teeth so hard, his gums bled. He yanked off his clothes and threw them into the basket in the corner of their bedroom, flopping onto the bed with a huff, tossing to find a comfortable position in his building rage. Fleur had followed him into bed, at a more sedate pace. 'How can he just _leave_ like that?' Bill hissed.

'Eet is part of his job.'

'But –'

Fleur sat up and laid a hand over Bill's mouth. 'Ginny knew what she was getting into when she married him. She knew somezing like zis would happen one day.'

Bill closed a hand around Fleur's wrist, removing her hand. 'She didn't look like she was fine with it,' he protested.

Fleur considered what he told her. 'Maybe so,' she agreed. 'But just because she doesn't like somezing doesn't mean she hasn't accepted it, no?'

Bill realized his wife was right, and slumped into the pillows. 'She's too young to be a widow,' he muttered. Fleur had had enough. She got out of bed and marched to the door. 'Where are you going?' he asked.

'Ginny is not a leetle girl! Or a _bébé_,' she said, whirling around to face the bed. 'I'm going to make some tea.'

Bill shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory. He looked over at Fleur, waiting serenely. He resumed his restless knuckle-popping and didn't see George slip into the corridor leading to Ginny.

* * *

Percy sat ramrod straight in his chair. He straightened his glasses, in what was becoming a nervous tic. He had been doing it far too frequently lately. Percy sighed irritably as he halted the progress of his hand through his hair. He pulled his fingers from his disordered hair and let the hand drop into his lap.

He knew when Arthur had come to speak to him he would ask him to go to Shacklebolt. He also knew that Arthur had deliberately used the word "sister". It played on the vestiges of guilt Percy still carried from the end of the war and how he had abandoned his family for three years. It forced Percy to see his father in a whole new light. He never knew his kindly father could be so crafty.

Percy let his hand drag through his hair once more.

He would have gone to Shacklebolt, even if Arthur hadn't asked.

Because this was partially his fault. If he hadn't said anything to Harry, or denied he received the notes, in all likelihood, Harry would be here with Ginny.

* * *

George closed the door and leaned against it. Ginny lay on her side, her back to the door. He watched Ginny for a moment as a contraction rippled through her. _Can I do this? It's what Fred would have done. He would have gone for the jugular, if for nothing more than to get Gin all wound up._ George took a deep breath. 'You know, Gin, I used to watch you during the war. When we hid at Auntie Muriel's. You wrote letters, then burned them. They were to Harry, weren't they? Because why would you burn letters to Ron or Hermione?' Ginny nodded. 'I always marveled at you. How strong you were. How you never gave in.' George had made his way over to the bed. He picked up the cloth draped over the lip of a basin filled with cool water and dipped the cloth in the water. He wrung it out and sat on the edge of the bed, facing Ginny. She gasped in pain, and panted while another contraction gripped her mercilessly. 'You've never let me down, Gin.' George ran the cloth over Ginny's face and neck. Her dark brown eyes gazed up at him, tears collecting in the corners. 'Until now.' Ginny's eyes widened in shock. 'There's a difference between being strong and stubborn, and right now you're just being stubborn. Family trait, I know.' His hand wrapped around hers, and he guided her through the next contraction. 'This baby, it's depending on you to do the right thing. And the right thing for you – and the baby – is to get it out. On your terms, before they decide to do it for you.'

Ginny struggled to sit up, and George gripped her arms to help. ­_Bulls-eye_, he thought. Ginny hated for other people to make decisions for her.

The door opened and Shanti, Bronwyn, and Molly stood clustered in the door. They hadn't seen George leave the waiting area. 'All right,' Ginny said hoarsely. 'Let's do this,' she added tiredly.

George slid off the bed to go back to the waiting area, but Ginny grabbed his hands. 'No! George! Don't leave me…'

George looked up at his mother, and Molly nodded. He bit his lip and climbed back on the bed behind Ginny. 'Okay, Gin, I won't go anywhere until it's done.'

It was a very surreal experience for George. His world narrowed down to Ginny and her baby. It didn't take long for Ginny to deliver the baby. 'It's a boy,' Shanti breathed.

Ginny turned her face into George's shoulder and burst into tears.

* * *

'Ginny.' It was a statement, more than a greeting.

'Go away.' Ginny didn't bother to look up. She stared at the baby lying in a small cot, her palm cupped around the tiny head, covered with sparse black fuzz.

'Ginny, please.' Harry leaned against the doorway, ready to drop with weariness.

'I don't want you in here right now,' Ginny spat as softly as she could. She was still sore from the birth. It hadn't been nearly as long as James', but the emotional turmoil hadn't helped.

Harry said nothing, but pushed himself off the wall and went into Ginny's room. He dropped into the chair next to Ginny's bed. He raked his hands through his hair, nearly pulling handfuls of it out in frustration. He stretched his aching feet out in front of him, and leaned back, resting his head on the back of the chair, letting his eyes close.

The sound of the door opening made him crack open an eyelid and he saw Ginny standing in the doorway. He lifted his head and looked at her. _She looks like hell_, he thought. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and her normally vivid hair seemed dull.

'Where were you?' she asked softly.

'I can't tell you,' he said. He was normally quite open with her regarding his missions, but he had been closemouthed with this one.

'Why not?' Ginny slowly walked to the bed, and gingerly slid into it, pulling the bedclothes over her body.

'To protect you,' he explained. It was a conversation he could recite by rote; they'd had it so much the past few months. Harry got to his feet and came to stand at the foot of the bed.

Ginny glared at him. 'I don't want you to protect me!' she shouted.

'Don't shout at me!' Harry shouted back, his eyes blazing.

'Well, don't shout at me, either!' Ginny yelled, looking for her wand. It wasn't on the night table and she wasn't even sure she remembered to bring it with her. She saw the handle of Harry's wand sticking out of his pocket, and made to lunge for it, wincing at the pain.

Harry's Auror-trained reflexes kicked in, in spite of the exhaustion, and his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, fingers closing firmly around it. 'Don't even think about it,' he warned, too tired to even try to be diplomatic. 'No wands,' he said, backing as far away as he could before he dropped Ginny's wrist. He backed to a table in the farthest corner of the room, and pulled his wand from his pocket and made a show of dropping it with a clatter on the table's surface.

He walked back to Ginny, palms out, hands outspread. 'I didn't want you to be a target.'

'I can take care of myself,' she argued. 'We had this bloody discussion eight years ago.'

'It's different now, Gin.'

'Don't call me that! You do not get to call me that right now!'

'All right, all right,' Harry said soothingly. 'But it is different. It's not just you anymore. It's Teddy. And James. And…' Harry trailed off. 'We never decided on a name for him, did we?'

'No.' Ginny looked down at the blanket.

'Gin…ny,' Harry began, correcting himself. 'Do you remember why Hermione did what she did with her parents during the war?'

'Of course I do,' she huffed impatiently.

'If I told you everything, if they took you, they could strip your memory for what I've told you. It's worse than rape to have someone muck in your head like that.' Harry started to sit on the edge of the bed, then changed his mind, and went back to the chair. 'I just can't tell you.' He held up a hand as Ginny started to protest. 'Yet,' he clarified.

'When,' she demanded.

'When it's safe.' Harry wanted to touch her so badly. 'I can't put you at risk, Ginny. If something were to happen to me, you're all they have left.'

He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. 'Sometimes, when Teddy was a baby, when I couldn't sleep, I'd go watch him sleep. And sometimes, I'd think about how selfish I thought Tonks was, going to the battle like that. Leaving a newborn baby like that. Then, I'd feel guilty for thinking that.' Harry pressed his thumbs into the ridge of his skull under his eyebrows, trying to ease the headache that lurked behind his eyes.

He looked at Ginny, her outline blurred and fuzzy without his glasses. 'I don't want to leave James or the little one alone like that.' He shoved his glasses back on his nose. 'I'm so sorry, Ginny. I didn't want to miss it. But neither of us knew he'd be early like this. This whole case was supposed to be wrapped up before he was born.'

Ginny stared stonily at her hands. They were clenched in her lap. 'It's not the same thing,' she pointed out. 'I'm your wife, damn it. You can't just keep me in the dark like this. I didn't even know how to get a message to you.' She slid down and turned onto her side, her back to Harry.

'Ginny, please…'

'Go home. Go back to work. Just go.'

Harry froze. 'Ginny?'

'Not now, Harry,' she sighed, blinking back tears.

Harry stumbled out of the room, his feet automatically taking him to the room where the baby slept. He stood over the cot, watching his son. 'I think I really screwed this one up,' he told the baby. Harry reached over the slats of the cot, and stroked the baby's tiny cheek with a shaking forefinger, lost in staring at him. While James' birth had been a joyful event, this little one's was rapidly turning into something out of the imagination of that poet he had studied in primary school. _Shakes… Shakes-something._ He couldn't remember.

'Would you like to hold him?' Shanti's voice intruded into his thoughts. It wasn't unwelcome.

'I can do that?'

'Of course you can.' Shanti lifted the baby from the cot, and motioned for Harry to sit in a rocking chair Harry hadn't noticed. She carefully laid the baby in Harry's arms. 'Did you have a name for him? Ginny wouldn't say.'

Harry shook his head. 'Not yet.' He looked up at Shanti. 'Will he be all right? The baby?'

Shanti leaned against the wall next to the cot. 'He's early, but six weeks is not the end of the world. Little Man Potter here made it through the first night with no major issues. The major worry this early is his lung development, but so far, he seems all right. The next few weeks we'll have to keep a close eye on him. We won't let him leave until he's gaining weight at a good pace. He's a touch over four pounds now.'

'I have a week. They gave me a week, then I have to go back to – ' Harry bit off the end of the sentence. 'I have a week,' he repeated.

* * *

Ron peered into the twilight darkness of the room. Harry had shown up last night, two hours after the baby had been born, causing quite a stir in the waiting area. He was much thinner than he had been a month ago, and dark shadows smudged the skin under his eyes. 'Harry?'

'Yeah?' Harry's eyes didn't leave the form of his sleeping son, counting the number of times his chest rose and fell with each breath.

'Mum, she sent some dinner for you.'

'Thanks,' Harry said listlessly.

'I'm supposed to stay and watch you eat it,' Ron informed him.

'I'm not hungry.'

Ron pondered the plate of food in his hands. 'How 'bout you eat three bites of anything, and I can say you ate it and won't have to lie to Mum?'

'Whatever.' Harry held out a hand for the plate, and eyed the food piled on it. He poked at it with the fork Ron handed him, and managed to choke down a roast potato. 'Was that three bites, would you say?'

'Good enough for me.' Ron pointed his wand at the plate. '_Evanesco_.' The remains of the dinner vanished. He sat in a chair, and watched Harry sway in the rocking chair by the cot. 'Where were you?'

'I can't tell you.'

'Can't or won't?' Ron asked pointedly.

'Both.'

'They almost had to sedate Ginny.'

'Why?' Harry tore his unblinking gaze from his son and frowned at Ron.

'She didn't…' Ron whispered uncomfortably. 'Because you weren't here.' Ron transferred his gaze to the toes of his shoes. 'She didn't want to do it without you. Mum said,' Ron swallowed. 'Mum said Shanti was afraid she would lose him.'

Harry bit his lip, but didn't say anything. He resumed counting each breath the baby took.

'Is it worth it?' Ron's quiet question broke into Harry's mindless counting. 'Being an Auror? Is it worth this?'

Harry sighed and stood up, stretching. He bent over the cot, and carefully lifted the baby into his arms. He took his seat in the rocking chair, cradling the baby to his chest. He looked down at the miniature face, creased in sleep. 'Yes. So he won't have to live the way we did.'

'Is it worth your marriage?'

'No,' Harry replied in a low voice. 'If she asked, I'd give it up.'

* * *

A/N: I promised Steph I'd leave a big gigantic bowl of M&Ms out for you lot when I posted this one.

The speech George gave to Ginny was inspired by the one George O'Malley gives to Bailey when she has her baby in Grey's Anatomy (The two-parter called It's the End of the World/As We Know It.)

I wrote the last half of this weeks ago, and I've been dying to get to this point in the story to post it.


	13. Blameless

'_Is it worth it?' Ron's quiet question broke into Harry's mindless counting. 'Being an Auror? Is it worth this?'_

_Harry sighed and stood up, stretching. He bent over the cot, and carefully lifted the baby into his arms. He took his seat in the rocking chair, cradling the baby to his chest. He looked down at the miniature face, creased in sleep. 'Yes. So he won't have to live the way we did.'_

'_Is it worth your marriage?'_

'_No,' Harry replied in a low voice. 'If she asked, I'd give it up.'_

* * *

Harry rocked silently, holding his newborn son to his chest. He fingered the bracelet around the baby's ankle. Shanti had explained that it would monitor his temperature, weight, pulse, and how well he was breathing. That information was sent to a charmed clipboard she carried. He had almost forgotten Ron was still in the room when Ron cleared his throat. 'She wouldn't ask you to do that.'

'No.' Harry's voice was nearly soundless.

Ron looked toward the door when he heard a rustle of fabric. Ginny stood framed in the doorway, plucking at the dressing gown over her chest. What Ron observed in the next few minutes worried him. He saw Harry glance toward the door and rise from his seat in the rocking chair. Harry brushed his lips over the baby's head, then laid him back into the cot, and leave with a curt nod toward Ginny. Ginny, for her part, kept her gaze glued to the floor, and stepped to the side to let Harry out of the room. Ginny then came into the room and picked up the baby, loosening the top of her dressing gown. Ron, realizing she was going to feed the baby, hastily averted his eyes, blushing.

He looked at Ginny out of the corner of his eye, trying to avoid the expanse of skin she had bared. 'I take it you're still angry with him?'

Ginny shrugged, her eyes fixed on the baby.

Ron got up, the plate in his hands, and walked out of the room. He saw Harry sitting on the floor of the hallway, back braced against the wall, forehead resting on his knees. Ron felt a tremor of unease in the pit of his stomach. He had always seen Harry and Ginny as one of the tightest couples he knew. He began to wonder how much of a toll the past six months had truly taken on their marriage.

Ron walked back out to the waiting area where Hermione waited with Rose. 'Come on,' he said shortly. 'We need to talk.' Hermione followed him, mystified. Ron didn't say anything until they were on the Tube, heading back to their flat. 'Have you seen them? Today?'

'Just Ginny earlier this morning. Why?'

Ron shook his head. 'They won't even stay in the same room together.'

'That doesn't sound good.'

'It's doesn't look good. They're not even talking to one another.'

'Bloody hell,' Hermione breathed.

'You can say that again,' Ron muttered.

* * *

By Tuesday, the entire family knew Harry and Ginny weren't speaking to each other. Molly had brought food that neither of them ate, and Vanished after a few token mouthfuls. She saw the strange, tense dance they did around each other when she brought them lunch. Harry would sit with the baby for a while, then Ginny would appear in the doorway, and they would silently change places. It was obvious Harry hadn't left the hospital since Sunday night. Molly noted with concern that he didn't seem to have slept, either. The lack of sleep only made the hollows of his face deeper. _He's too thin_, she thought.

'Is there something you need, Molly?' Harry's voice rasped in the quiet of the corridor. He leaned against the opposite wall from the open doorway, hungrily watching Ginny nurse the baby.

'No, dear.' Molly left the hospital, her face creased in anxiety. She was afraid if they didn't manage to at least try to reach over this wall they had created between themselves, it might be too late when Harry got back from his assignment.

Arthur noticed it, too, when he brought them dinner that evening. He handed Harry a plate of food that Harry picked at with a listlessness Arthur hadn't seen in years. 'Harry? Why don't you go home for a few hours? Take a shower and have a kip in your own bed?'

Harry glanced up at Arthur, before sniffing cautiously at his shirt. 'What day is it?'

'Tuesday.'

Harry considered Arthur's suggestion. 'I can't,' he said, shaking his head. 'What if something goes wrong, and I miss that too?' he said bitterly.

Arthur seized Harry's arm in one hand, and dragged him out to the waiting area. 'You're not doing either of you any favors by not taking care of yourself. What good will you be to Ginny, James, or the baby if you get sick, too, eh?' Arthur turned, he Side-Alonged Harry to the house in Godric's Hollow.

It was hot and still in the valley. Harry blinked, bemused to see sunlit grass and trees, instead of dimly lit corridor of the hospital. He considered yanking his arm out of Arthur's tight grip, and Apparating back to London, but he was far too exhausted to Apparate properly. Harry felt a slight push on his arm, as Arthur propelled him toward the back door. 'Have wards up?' Arthur asked

'Uh, yeah. I'll get them.' Harry drew his wand and jabbed it at the doorknob. The door swung open, and Harry walked over the threshold, a faint tingle on his skin as the spell recognized him. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, and removed the wards from the house, so Arthur could come inside. 'They're down,' he called softly through the open door, collapsing into a chair, suddenly too tired to stand.

Arthur strode into the kitchen, and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. 'Go on and take a shower, son. You'll feel better. Then go lie down for a few hours. I'll stay here, and wake you up in a bit.'

Harry groaned softly as he pushed himself to his feet. His fingers traveled down the front of his shirt, unbuttoning it, as he trudged heavily up the stairs to his bedroom. Harry dropped the shirt on the floor and toed off his trainers. He'd been wearing them so long it felt like they had fused to his socks. Harry wrinkled his nose at the odor emanating from his feet. _Fine, I could use a shower_, he reflected, peeling off the socks. _Ugh, that's foul. I'm surprised nobody said anything sooner._ Harry shoved his jeans and boxers off at the same time, and went into the bathroom, his feet dragging.

Harry turned on the shower, and wearily climbed into the tub. He stood under the spray, letting it pound him for several moments, before he picked up a bar of soap. He scrubbed himself thoroughly, then automatically reached for Ginny's shampoo. After rinsing the suds from his hair, Harry turned off the water, and reached for a towel, haphazardly drying himself. He considered just crawling into the wide bed naked, but the knowledge that Arthur would come wake him in a few hours sent him to the cupboard where his things were kept. He yanked on a pair of worn boxers and an equally worn t-shirt, before almost falling into the warm bed.

Harry lay on his back on his side of the bed for a long moment. _Something's missing_. He rolled over, and in his haze, reached for Ginny. His eyes flew open when his hand encountered nothing but air. _Oh right. She's at the hospital._ Harry's eyes burned, as he pulled Ginny's pillow to his chest. The soft cotton of the pillowcase still bore a faint scent of Ginny. Harry burrowed his nose into the fabric, his arms tightening around it.

In seconds, the fatigue took over, and Harry was asleep.

* * *

At the hospital, Shanti sat at her desk, looking at the clipboard. Something had caught her attention. She held it in her hands, for several seconds, frowning. She set the clipboard down slowly and massaged her temples for a minute.

* * *

Arthur heard the water shut off upstairs. He waited, patiently counting off the minutes to himself, then crept upstairs. The door to Harry and Ginny's bedroom stood ajar, and Arthur noiselessly pushed the door open a bit more. Harry's soft snores reached his ears. Arthur slipped into the room, and tiptoed to the bed. He pulled the bedding up around Harry, like he was Teddy's age, and stood there for a few moments, watching the man he considered to be one of his own sons sleep.

Arthur slipped out the bedroom, and curiously poked his head into one of the other bedrooms. The room was an odd jumble of furniture. Molly's old rocking chair sat by the windows overlooking the back garden, and a cupboard and changing table were pushed against a wall. A pile of wood was stacked in the middle of the room, and Arthur bent to examine it. It was the baby's unassembled cot.

Arthur swiped a finger over the surface and of the wood, frowning at the streak he made in the dust. He wiped his finger off on his jumper and gazed sadly around the room.

He left the room and went back downstairs, settling into one of the squashy armchairs in the sitting room, looking longingly at the television. He had mastered a few Muggle appliances, like toasters, but most audio/visual equipment baffled him. There were too many buttons. There was a wizarding wireless on a shelf next to the television, so Arthur pointed his wand at it, and adjusted the volume to a low murmur. A Quidditch game in Appleby was on, so Arthur didn't bother to change the station.

Arthur's mind wasn't on the game, though. It was on the chasm that had opened between his daughter and her husband. He Summoned a photograph from the mantle of the fireplace. Ginny and Harry grinned at each other, wrapped up in each other's arms. It had been taken after their wedding, and they danced to music only they could hear, surrounded by hundreds of twinkling fairy lights. Arthur hadn't been opposed to their engagement, but he had been shocked to find out they wanted to marry in the upcoming Quidditch off-season. Ginny had only been nineteen and Harry twenty. Arthur had felt they were far too young to get married, but they had both been adamant – Ginny in her furiously stubborn way and Harry in his quietly firm insistence.

Arthur hadn't minded having Ginny and James at the Burrow the past month. What he _had_ minded was the way Harry left Ginny in the dark about everything. He understood on some level, that Harry hadn't wanted Ginny to know anything, to keep her safe. But all it had done was make Ginny worry more. Harry sometimes still lived in the world of ten years ago, and it made things difficult more often than not. He wasn't one to confide in people, save for Ron, Hermione, or Ginny. And sometimes, it seemed, not even Ginny.

* * *

Harry slowly opened his eyes and blinked in momentary confusion. He didn't recognize the room. He sat up warily, conscious of every ache in his body. Harry's gaze swept around the room, squinting to bring it into focus. He slumped in relief when he realized he was in his bed in the house. Gradually, he remembered Arthur taking him home, insisting he shower and sleep a little. Harry pushed the bedding back, and tried to remember where he had left his glasses. He found them on the counter in the bathroom, and slid them up his nose.

Harry went back into the bedroom, and looked at the clock. He didn't know what time it was when Arthur brought him home, but the alarm clock read eight-thirty. It was getting dark outside, so Harry knew it was eight-thirty in the evening. Harry found an old pair of jeans and pulled them on, grimacing at how much they drooped over his hips. He hadn't paid attention to how much weight he'd lost over the last month. Harry took the time to examine himself in the cheval mirror in the corner. _You don't look so good yourself_, he thought, noting the purple smudges under his eyes, and how much deeper the hollows of his face were. _No wonder Molly keeps throwing food at me_. Harry ran a hand down his side, alarmed at how easy it was to count his ribs. He turned his back on his image and stood uncertainly on the landing outside the bedroom. Harry noticed the door to the baby's room was open. He had closed it before they left, after he'd put the changing table together in there, so James couldn't get into the pieces that made up the new cot.

Harry padded into the room, a pang of guilt surging through him. _I should put that together._ _Otherwise, Bun will have to sleep in a drawer, and Ginny will never forgive me._ Harry began to sort through the pieces, consulting the instruction booklet. He supposed he could do it by magic, but he preferred to do this by hand.

* * *

Arthur heard the dull sounds of wood clanking on wood upstairs and went into the kitchen to make some sandwiches. Arthur wasn't much of a cook, no matter how hard he tried, but he could make some sandwiches and heat some soup when the need arose. He climbed the stairs, levitating a tray with a plate of ham sandwiches and a couple of bottles of butterbeer he had found in the refrigerator. He found Harry in the baby's room, sitting on the floor, surrounded by the pieces of the cot, frowning at a small booklet. Arthur softly cleared his throat. 'Are you hungry?'

Harry shrugged, not looking up from the booklet.

'You should eat, son.'

Harry got to his feet, and took the tray from Arthur, putting it on the changing table, and took a sandwich. 'I need to get this done, before I have to leave,' he said, gesturing to the pile of wood. Harry mindlessly took a bite of the sandwich and swallowed it before he looked up at Arthur. 'Would you mind helping? It really does take two to put it together.'

Arthur held pieces together, while Harry patiently screwed the various parts to the frame. It took over an hour, yet neither of them spoke, beyond Harry's requests for Arthur to hold this piece to that one. When the cot was completed, Harry looked around the room, and pushed the cot against the wall adjacent to the windows. Harry picked up another sandwich, and began to tear the crusts off the bread. 'How's James?'

'He's fine. Misses you and Ginny, of course.'

'I'll come see him tomorrow,' Harry whispered, shame-facedly.

Arthur sat in the rocking chair, his body molding to the familiar contours. He ran his hands over the arms. Percy had been a colicky baby, and Arthur had spent hours with him in this chair. He watched Harry mangle his sandwich for a moment. 'You know, Harry, I don't like to meddle in my children's lives.'

'I know.'

'Ginny deserves better than what you've been doing lately,' Arthur said with uncharacteristic sharpness. Harry's head jerked up, face going red. 'She's demonstrated time and again she can take care of herself. She is definitely Molly's child, and you know what Molly can do.' Harry nodded, recalling with clarity the way he'd seen Molly duel with Bellatrix. 'You can't shut her out like this. She's your wife. You shouldn't treat her as anything less than an equal.

'I expected better from you,' Arthur concluded quietly.

Harry's hands convulsed on the hopelessly pulverized sandwich, his face paling. 'I just wanted –'

'It's not about what you _want_ sometimes.'

Harry dropped the sandwich on his plate, and rubbed his hands over his face. 'I can't risk putting her in danger.'

'You're going to lose her if you keep acting this way,' Arthur said bluntly.

Harry didn't say anything, but nodded. He knew Arthur was right. As much as he knew Ginny loved him, his silence was going to build a wall between them that might be insurmountable.

Arthur got up and walked to Harry's hunched form. He put a hand under Harry's chin, and forced the younger man to look up. 'You have to find a way to talk to her,' Arthur informed him.

'I've never had a case where she could be at risk,' Harry confessed. 'I don't know _how_ to tell her about this.'

With that admission, something fell into place for Harry. It wasn't that he _wouldn't_ tell Ginny anything. He had talked to her about assignments and cases before. He _couldn't_ force the words past his throat. Harry inhaled, and straightened his shoulders. 'I should get back to the hospital.'

He went into his bedroom and pulled on a jumper and a pair of socks. He looked at his trainers distastefully and rooted in his soiled jeans for his wand. Harry pointed it at the trainers, muttering, '_Scourgify._' He picked one up and sniffed itapprehensively. It was still slightly musty, but better than the stench that had greeted him earlier. He shoved his feet into them and met Arthur on the landing.

'I'll take you back,' Arthur said.

'Thanks.' Harry was grateful for that. He was still too tired to try Apparition on his own. 'I might Splinch something.'

Arthur took Harry's arm. 'I don't like seeing either you, or Ginny hurting like this, son.'

'I'll try to… I dunno… Fix it, I guess.'

Arthur pulled Harry into a hug, surprising Harry, after their 'discussion'. 'Come on, then,' Arthur said gruffly. He led Harry back down the stairs, and went out into the back garden, waiting for Harry to re-set the wards on the house. When Harry walked to where Arthur waited, Arthur took Harry's elbow and turned.

* * *

Harry stood outside the door to the baby's room at St. Mungo's, hesitating. Ginny was inside, sitting in the rocking chair, her head leaning against the back, eyes closed. _Maybe I should wait…_ _She looks worse than I do._ He gulped and took a step into the room. 'Ginny?' he asked nearly inaudibly.

Ginny opened her eyes, and turned her head toward the door. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, an alarm began to sound. Shanti and a trainee burst through the door, shoving Harry aside. They took the baby from Ginny, and began to rub his back. After several agonizing seconds, the baby's face took on a bluish tinge. The trainee took a small bag with a mask attached to it, and delicately fitted it over the baby's face, and began to slowly depress the bag, gently forcing air into his lungs.

Ginny had shot out of the chair, her mouth open in shock. 'W-what's wrong with him?' When nobody answered, she shouted, 'What the effing hell is wrong with my son?'

Shanti threw a glance to Harry. 'Get her out of here,' she said with calm urgency. Harry looked between his wife and the Healer, before going to Ginny and picking her up, and carrying her bodily out of the room.

Harry strode into Ginny's room across the corridor, and set her down on the edge of the bed. Ginny's eyes were wide with fear, and her mouth worked soundlessly. She looked up at Harry, and her face crumpled. 'It's my fault,' she moaned. 'It's my fault.'

Harry snagged the straight-backed chair by the head of the bed, and dragged it over so he could sit in front of her. 'What do you mean it's your fault?'

Ginny looked at her hands, blinking rapidly. 'The night before he was born. James… He had a nightmare or something, and he was calling for you, so I went to get him and ended up sleeping on the floor, sitting up.' Ginny rubbed a hand under her nose. 'I wasn't sleeping. I didn't eat like I should have.' Her mouth trembled before she took in a slow breath. 'It's my fault he came early.' Her voice broke. 'It's my fault…' she repeated.

Harry wrapped his hands around Ginny's ice-cold ones. 'It's not your fault.' Ginny shook her head, unable to speak. 'Gin, you don't live my life and at some point realize you can do everything right, but things still happen.' He moved to the bed, and wrapped his arms around Ginny's trembling body. 'If it's anybody's fault, it's mine.' Harry let his face rest on top of Ginny's head. 'I put you in an untenable situation. I left you alone, and I didn't have to,' he admitted.

The door opened and Shanti came inside, and closed it again. 'He's fine. He's got something called apnea. It happens with premature babies. I'm adjusting the monitor on his ankle.'

'What's apnea?' Harry asked. He had skimmed over the chapter regarding premature births in the book he had read with James, and didn't remember everything.

'He stops breathing,' Ginny said painfully.

Harry looked at Shanti for confirmation, and she nodded. 'He can also have something called bradycardia, where his heartbeat slows.' Shanti stretched her shoulders. 'Neither of these is serious,' she reassured the two frightened parents across from her. 'It just means we have to monitor him closely.' She rested her elbows on her knees. 'If you're holding him and the alarm goes off, you can rub his back, arms, or legs. This will help him remember to breathe. When he starts breathing again, it'll turn off. But I'll have one of the fifth-year trainees assigned to him at all times.' Shanti paused. 'Young master Potter will be fine. The apnea isn't uncommon for preterm babies.'

Shanti stood up and put the chair back in its original place. 'Now, I'm going to order the both of you to get some sleep. And eat.' She fixed Ginny with a stern glare. 'You will make yourself sick if you don't start taking care of yourself,' she said in an eerie echo of Arthur's lecture to Harry earlier. 'You need to get some rest, eat, and stay hydrated, if you plan on nursing him much longer.' She pulled Harry into the lecture. 'And that goes for you, too. Without the nursing bit,' she added.

Shanti left and Ginny blinked, tears falling swiftly down her cheeks. 'Why are you crying?' Harry asked, thumbing the tears away, but they fell faster than he could keep up with them.

'I don't know,' Ginny said shakily.

'Get some sleep, all right?' Harry stood up, and went to the chair, stretching his feet out, and folding his hands across his stomach.

Ginny slid into the bed, and turned on her side to look at Harry. She sniffed a few times, and wiped the sleeve of her nightdress across her nose. 'Harry?' she whispered.

He cracked an eyelid open. 'Yes?'

'You could… You can…' Ginny struggled to say the words. She lifted the edge of the sheet in invitation.

Harry chewed his lip, contemplating Ginny's invitation. 'Are you sure?'

Ginny nodded once. 'I'm sure.' She scooted over a bit. 'Please?'

Harry slid off the chair, and took his glasses off, laying them on the table next to the bed. He slipped into the bed next to Ginny and drew her against his body. 'I'm so sorry,' he breathed, his mouth next to her ear. 'For everything.' His breath hitched in hit throat.

Ginny laced her fingers through his. She wasn't ready to forgive him yet. But she was willing to try.


	14. By Inches

A/N: Sarah, Ewan, and Maggie are Healer trainees. Just so you know when they show up.

* * *

Harry watched Ginny sleep. He tilted his wrist and squinted at the face of his watch. She would wake up soon. He'd found out she had a bracelet, a lot like the one the baby had. It would vibrate every few hours during the night, and Ginny would haul herself out of the bed, and stumble into the room across the corridor to try and feed the baby. It took a while because he would grow tired and stop after a few minutes. Harry quickly learned that if Ginny didn't wake up promptly once the bracelet began to vibrate, it grew more insistent. Then, it started beeping. Harry woke up every time Ginny did, and ignored her admonishments to go back to sleep. He couldn't sleep without her, so he got up with her.

To say it was grueling was an understatement.

This vigil was the hardest thing Harry or Ginny had ever done.

Four times as Tuesday bled into Wednesday, the baby stopped breathing. Once, the trainee had to intervene. It was almost as frightening as the first time.

_We really do need to name Bun. Can't keep calling him that or The Baby for much longer._

Sleeping in the narrow bed with Ginny brought back memories of the month before Ginny went back to school for her seventh year. They'd found an old hammock in the tool shed and strung it up between two of the trees that separated the paddock from the back garden. They'd spent many afternoons after lunch face-to-face, sometimes talking, sometimes sleeping, but always cocooned away from the rest of the world. Without his glasses, in the dusky glow of the small light on the far table, Ginny looked younger than her near twenty-five years. Not that she actually looked her age. Many people assumed both he and she were several years younger than they really were. She certainly didn't look old enough to have two children.

Harry felt his chest tighten and closed his eyes. He knew he would have to leave again soon, but he hadn't come any closer to figuring out a way of telling Ginny than he had been last night. But he knew Arthur had been right. Ginny deserved to know as much as he was able to tell her, without jeopardizing the case, and Harry also knew she would stay silent, even under an Unforgivable. Without his having to ask her to.

Ginny's wrist started buzzing softly. It would continue to buzz until she left the room. She whimpered softly and tried to burrow into Harry's chest, but the vibrations grew steadily stronger. 'I'm up, I'm up,' she muttered, and slowly sat up, rubbing her face. Harry slid out of bed and helped Ginny to her feet, guiding her half-asleep feet to the door. Once she crossed the threshold, the buzzing stilled, and Harry propelled her into the other room. 'You're doing this next time,' she mumbled through the hair falling into her face.

'Love to, but don't have the right equipment,' Harry replied softly.

'I'll figure something out,' Ginny retorted sleepily. She lowered herself into the rocking chair, with her head propped on one hand. Harry scooped the baby into his arms, and nuzzled the black fuzz sprouting on his head. Harry picked up the blanket from the cot. It had a Warming charm, and keeping Bun warm was a priority. He unbuttoned a few of his shirt buttons and settled the baby on his chest, skin-to-skin, tucking the blanket around him. Kangaroo care, Shanti had called it Monday when she suggested he try it. Oddly enough, it was soothing for Harry, too.

The last two days had given Harry a crash course in premature babies. He didn't cry when he was hungry, like James had. He got fussy and whimpered a bit. He also stuck his tongue out and began rooting. Harry had nearly jumped out of his skin yesterday morning when Bun's tiny tongue swiped over his chest while he'd been holding him in the kangaroo pose. The apnea was terrifying on its own, and the idea that Bun could just stop breathing like that made him count each breath even more obsessively than he already had.

'Is he hungry?' Ginny asked, her voice gritty from weariness.

Harry angled his head so he could see the baby. He was blinking slowly, but hadn't displayed any signals yet. 'Probably, but he's not saying so just now.'

'Okay…' Ginny's voice trailed off, and her eyes slowly closed. She continued to slowly sway to and fro in the rocking chair. Like Harry, she had found the past few days to have been a rather thorough education. It was not an experience she cared to repeat any time soon. Ginny's eyes opened to slits and she glanced at Harry cuddling the baby. His hair stuck out wildly about his head. It put her in mind of James when he first woke up. She felt a tendril of guilt spring up. She hadn't bothered to spare a thought for James since Sunday. Her focus had contracted to this room and the one across the corridor. 'Damn it.'

'What?' Harry carefully looked at her, trying to not jar the baby.

'James.' Ginny straightened in the rocking chair. 'I don't suppose you know how he's doing, do you?' she asked guiltily.

'Yeah, I do.' Harry shifted his position in his chair. 'Your dad said last night he was fine.' Harry stiffened as the baby's mouth opened and closed against the bare skin over his collarbone, looking for something that wasn't there. 'Hey now,' he said softly to the baby. 'I can't help you with that.' Harry stood up. 'I think he's hungry now.' He laid the baby in Ginny's arms, tucking the blanket around his tiny body.

Neither of them spoke while Ginny coaxed the baby into eating. He fell asleep after more than thirty minutes, and Ginny put him back into the cot. She looked up at Harry, embarrassment highlighting the freckles scattered across her face. 'Do you mind…?' She cleared her throat a few times. 'I have to pump, and it's not something I enjoy doing with an audience,' she sighed, gesturing toward her still-swollen breasts.

'Right.' Harry pushed himself to his feet and went to the door. 'I'll just be in the other room, then.' He stopped at the door and turned. 'Gin? Could I do the next feeding?' he asked wistfully, indicating the pump in her hand. It was a job they had shared with James, and Harry had enjoyed the time with him.

'Absolutely,' Ginny declared emphatically. 'You can do it some tonight, too if you want.'

'Thanks.' Harry awkwardly ducked out of the room. He bent to touch his toes, stretching the muscles of his back, cringing at the popping sounds coming from his back. Gradually, vertebrae by vertebrae, he rolled upright, only slightly dizzy. _At least we're talking_, he thought. Neither of them had brought up the case over the long hours of the night, and they kept their brief conversations focused on the baby.

The double doors at the end of the corridor squeaked and Harry turned to see Molly carrying a large basket. Harry's stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn't really eaten since Sunday afternoon. The scent of freshly baked blueberry muffins wafted from the basket.

'Morning, Harry.' Molly went into Ginny's room with the basket and set it on the far table. 'Are you hungry?' She reached into the basket and unpacked the muffins. The scent of vanilla and blueberries grew stronger. Harry's stomach growled audibly, and he reached for a muffin. 'I guess that's a yes.'

Harry poked through the basket, unearthing two vacuum flasks. He opened one, and inhaled the scent of tea, moaning beatifically as he poured a cup for himself. He sipped it, letting the liquid slide down his throat. After the past few days, any type of caffeine was ambrosia. He was about to pour another cup for himself when he stopped. 'What's in the other one?'

'Orange juice.'

Harry nibbled the muffin contemplating the flasks. With a regretful sigh, he replaced the cap on the tea and put it back in the basket. Ginny could use it more than he could. He opened the juice, and took a few hasty gulps from it, before he went back across the hall. Ginny was performing a Freezing charm on the milk, handing it to the trainee to store until later. 'Your mum's brought breakfast,' he said.

'I'm not hungry,' Ginny replied tiredly.

'You really should eat, Gin.'

Ginny just shrugged. She knew she should, but she was so tired. She just wanted to lie down and sleep. 'Maybe later.' Ginny sat back in the rocking chair. 'Is Mum still here?'

'Yeah.'

Ginny nodded, not saying anything.

'Do you want her to leave?' Harry asked.

Ginny shook her head.

'Ginny, you heard Shanti, you have to eat.' Harry stood looking at her, his hands on his hips. 'If not for you, then do it for him,' he said, pointing at the cot. He pulled her to her feet. 'Go eat something, and I'll stay here.'

Ginny looked doubtfully at the cot. 'Are you sure?'

'Yeah. Go on.' Harry jerked his head toward the door giving Ginny a slight push.

Ginny left the room, feeling a twinge of guilt as she went into the other room. 'Thanks, Mum,' she murmured.

'It's nothing.' Molly waved off Ginny's expression of gratitude. 'I'll not have you eat what they try to pass off as food here. You need to keep up your strength.'

Ginny broke a muffin in half and inhaled it. She blinked and reached for another one. She didn't realize how hungry she was until she'd eaten three muffins, with barely a pause between each one. Ginny lifted the cup of tea next to the basket of muffins, cradling it between her hands, the same sort of blissful expression Harry had worn earlier. She noticed Molly's stunned look. 'Guess I was hungry after all.'

'You think?' Molly snorted. 'Here, I brought you some fresh clothes, too.'

Ginny ran a hand through her hair. 'Thanks. There's only so long you can handle being in dressing gowns.'

'Why don't you go have a shower?' Molly suggested. 'You'll feel so much better.'

'But I…' Ginny stopped, thinking longingly of a hot shower. 'I don't want to leave the baby alone…'

'Alone? Ginny, Harry's in there, a Healer's in there, I can go in there… That baby is not alone.'

'But…' Ginny's face set in stubborn lines, unwilling to give in this.

'Ginny, listen to me. If you don't start taking care of yourself, you're going to end up sick, unable to take care of the baby.'

'Why does everybody keep saying that?' Ginny threw up her hands in exasperation.

'Because you're not sleeping, for one.' Molly held up an accusatory finger. 'Two, you're barely eating enough to keep a pixie alive.' Another finger shot up to join the first. 'Three, you spend nearly all your waking hours watching him in that cot.' Molly added another finger. 'Four, you haven't once asked about James since Sunday.'

Tears leaked from Ginny's eyes, and she dashed them from her face. Another wave of guilt crashed over her. 'I'm so scared, that something will happen to him, and I won't be there. I'm his mother! I have to be there.' Ginny's voice rose hysterically.

Molly sighed and pulled Ginny down on the bed, putting her arms around Ginny. Molly rubbed Ginny's back for a moment. 'Gin, if you don't ever take any advice from me, take this bit.' She tilted up Ginny's chin. 'It's all right to be selfish every once in a while as a mother. You'll go mad otherwise.'

Ginny gaped at her mother. "Selfish" was not a word Ginny would have ever associated with Molly. If anything, Ginny thought her mother had been far too selfless over the years.

Molly fished a handkerchief from the pocket of her robes and handed it to Ginny. 'Surprised, are you? Trust me, if you ever have seven children, you'll learn that a bit of selfishness is not a bad thing. It's all right to take a shower right now, or have a bit of a nap, or let Harry feed the baby every once in a while. You can lose sight of yourself if you don't.'

Ginny twisted the handkerchief between her hands. 'You never did that,' she insisted mulishly.

Molly laughed. 'Yes, I did. Every Saturday afternoon. I left your dad in charge of you lot and did what ever the bloody hell I wanted to do. Even if all I did was bake my favorite pie for pudding because it's what I wanted, and not what one of you wanted.' Molly patted Ginny on the knee. 'Now, go and have a nice shower. Wash your hair. And go back to bed. I'll go sit with the baby for a while.'

'How do you always know what to say? I don't think I'll ever figure that out.' Ginny sniffed and swiped the handkerchief under her nose.

'I'm your mum, Gin. I don't like to see you unhappy, and I'll do whatever it takes to try and make you happy.' Molly paused and continued, delicately. This was dangerous territory. 'But you should cut Harry some slack, dear. He can't always tell you everything you want to know. Not with his job,' she said. 'You shouldn't hold it against him. I'm sure he'll tell you what he can, when he can, but you can't be angry at him when he can't say anything. Or won't,' she added. 'It's hard on him, too to be apart from you, James, and the baby.'

Ginny sighed. 'I know.'

'Your father and I used to do this. What you and Harry do,' Molly said quietly. 'He joined the Order before Percy was born. He would go on an assignment, and I'd live in terror until he got back. And he wouldn't tell me anything, either. Until the day I found out I was pregnant with Ron,' she reflected. 'He was leaving to go on a mission, and I threw a plate at his head, and yelled at him that if he didn't tell me what was going on, he shouldn't bother coming home at all.'

'Did it make it easier? Knowing?'

'No. Made it worse, almost. If I heard something on the news on the wireless that something had happened in the area where your father had been, it would make my heart stop. I'd worry twice as much, until he'd come home or send word he was all right.'

Ginny sat soberly considering everything her mother had told her. There had been times in the past when Ginny would have routinely dismissed anything Molly told her. But that was before Ginny had become a mother herself. She might not always do what Molly suggested, but now she listened at least. 'I'll think about it, Mum,' she said, picking at a loose thread of the embroidery that ran along the hem of the handkerchief.

'That's all I've ever wanted,' Molly chuckled, kissing Ginny's forehead. 'But you were always determined to do it all on your own. Go on, go get cleaned up.'

Harry stood in the corridor, frozen to his spot, listening to Molly's voice. What she told Ginny only confused him further. Did he do what Arthur said to do, or did he take this new information into consideration? He forced his feet from the floor and tried to behave normally when he went back into Ginny's room. 'Sarah sent me back in here to get some sleep,' he admitted to Molly at her questioning glance. 'I fell asleep and pitched out of the rocking chair,' Harry muttered ruefully. 'I was _ordered_ to get some sleep.'

Molly jabbed her wand at the remains of breakfast and the plate of muffins and the vacuum flasks repacked themselves into the basket. 'I'll go sit with the baby, while the two of you get some sleep. I'll come get one of you when he gets hungry.'

'Me. Wake me up.' Harry fell back into the pillows. 'I'm going to go by the Burrow at lunch. To see James,' he muttered. He inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. Harry tried to stay awake until Ginny finished her shower, but last night caught up with him, and he fell asleep, waiting.

* * *

Ginny stood under the hot water for a long time. _Long enough to get wrinkly_, she mused, looking at her hands. The last two days, she had barely managed to brush her teeth, much less shower. _I should wash my hair._ She picked up the shampoo Molly had brought with the change of clothing. _It's rather manky_. Truth be told, the last few days before she'd given birth, Ginny could have cared less about how she looked. She spent most of those days wandering to and fro in a trance. Ginny worked the lather through her hair. Molly had given her a lot to think about. _Maybe I would be better off not knowing…_

Ginny rinsed her hair, and shut off the water. She grabbed a towel and began to dry herself, but had to sit on the edge of the tub, when a wave of dizziness overtook her. _Shower must have been too hot_. She pulled the pajama bottoms and on eased the top over her head. Ginny rubbed her hair with a dry towel and hung them both on hooks next to the tub. Placing one hand on the wall, Ginny walked to the bed, her knees trembling.

Harry was sprawled across the bed, asleep. Ginny lowered herself to the edge of the bed, and slid his glasses off. She reached across him to put them on the night table next to the bed. Ginny slid down, and rested her head on Harry's shoulder. He automatically tightened his arms around her, face turning into her hair.

* * *

Harry Apparated in the lane beyond the back garden of the Burrow. James was sitting in a sand pit, digging industriously with a Muggle toy lorry. Harry smiled at the sight. Arthur must have gotten it for James. It looked new. He opened the gate, and made his way quietly to the side of the sand pit. He squatted down next to James, who still hadn't noticed him. 'Hey, mate.'

James' head turned so fast, Harry was surprised he hadn't hurt anything. 'DAHDEE!' James clambered over the side of the sand pit and launched himself into Harry's arms. 'DahdeeDahdeeDahdee,' he chanted.

Harry rose to his feet, tightly hugging James's sturdy little body, inhaling the scent of sweaty little boy, biscuits, and strawberry jam. He marveled at how much James had grown in the past month. 'I missed you,' he breathed, not sure if James understood, but needing to say it. Harry planted a kiss on the top of James' head.

James' grubby hands were fisted into the folds of Harry's shirt. He carefully unwound the chubby fingers from his shirtfront, and laid the little boy in the old cot. James' mouth dropped open in sleep, and Harry sat in the armchair watching him sleep, vowing to come see James every day until he had to leave. Harry leaned closer to the cot. 'Hey, James. You have a new baby brother.' Harry stroked James' fluffy black hair. 'He's really small right now, so your mummy and I will have to spend a lot of time with him. But that doesn't mean we love you any less.' He stood and bent to brush a kiss over James' head.

Harry went downstairs and went into the kitchen. 'He's asleep,' he told Molly. 'I'll come back tomorrow at lunch.'

'All right.' Molly handed Harry a basket. 'I put some dinner in there for the two of you.'

'Thanks.' Harry flashed Molly a smile of gratitude. 'I remember the slop they served when James was born.'

Harry walked out to the back garden and into the lane.

* * *

They ate dinner in shifts; sitting with the baby while the other ate so fast, Harry doubted they actually tasted the food. Before Shanti left for the day, she herded them into Ginny's room and closed the door. 'The two of you will take turns feeding the baby tonight. I don't want to hear from Sarah, Ewan, or Maggie that the two of you were in that room tonight at the same time. If I find out that both of you are in there at the same time between ten at night and six in the morning, I promise, I will charm your hair to turn blue.' She pointed her wand at Harry's right wrist. A bracelet like the one Ginny wore appeared on his wrist. Shanti tapped Ginny's wrist, then Harry's. 'There. The alarms are charmed to alternate. There's plenty of stored milk so Ginny doesn't have to get up each time.' Shanti started to leave the room. 'The two of you are the worst patients I've ever had.' She glared at each of them in turn. 'And that includes Hermione!' Shanti yanked the door open and firmly closed it, leaving Harry and Ginny sitting side-by-side, mouths open.

'I wonder whose goes off first?' Harry wondered, holding up his wrist. The bracelet had his name, Ginny's name, and the baby's birth date on it.

'We'll just have to find out,' Ginny yawned, sliding down into the bed.

Harry watched her blink sleepily at him. He looked over his shoulder. The door was closed and Harry knew what they said wouldn't be heard by anyone in the corridor. 'So…' Harry bent to remove his trainers, and slipped his jeans off. He unbuttoned his shirt, concentrating on each button, trying to buy himself some time to think. _Go on. Just tell her where you were and why. And who. Even if you don't say anything else, she deserves to know who you're dealing with._ The last button slid through its buttonhole and Harry draped it over the seat of the chair. He got into the bed, and turned on his side, fingers brushing the hair away from Ginny's face. He cleared his throat. 'So…' he began again.

'So…?'

'I… Uh… That is…' Harry stammered. The words he had been wanting to tell her for months stuck in his throat. 'We should pick a name for the baby.' he blurted in a rush.

Ginny looked at him askance. 'All right,' she said. 'What did you have in mind?'

'You have to promise you won't laugh,' Harry mumbled.

'I'm too tired to laugh,' Ginny promised.

Harry twisted the bracelet around his wrist. 'Albus.'

Ginny's eyes flew open. 'What?'

'Albus,' Harry repeated.

'Do you _want_ him to get beaten up for his pocket money during his break at school?'

'Who's going to beat him up for being named after one of the greatest headmasters of Hogwarts _at_ Hogwarts?' Harry demanded.

'I meant when he goes to primary school,' Ginny explained.

'We don't _have_ to call him Albus all the time,' Harry argued. 'We can call him "Al" for short.'

'And the second name?' Ginny asked warily, as if she didn't really want to know.

'Severus,' Harry said quietly.

Ginny sat up. 'Severus? Have you lost your bloody mind?'

'Not that I'm aware,' Harry sighed. He knew it was going to be difficult to suggest this name.

'_Why_?' Ginny asked pointedly. 'Why would you want to name our son after a murderer?'

'He wasn't a murderer,' Harry replied. 'You know that. _Everybody_ knows that.'

'He tried to trade your life for your mother's,' Ginny reminded him. He had spent a halting afternoon before she went back to school telling him about Snape's memories.

'He kept me alive,' Harry countered. 'When he fled Hogwarts after Dumbledore died, he was still teaching me, but I was too angry and hurt to see it.' He traced the lines of Ginny's upturned palm. 'Even when I was searching for the Horcruxes, he helped. At great personal risk, I might add.'

'Still.' The corners of Ginny's mouth turned down.

'I want to do it for Mum,' Harry admitted.

Ginny was startled. 'If you want to name him after your mum, we could use her maiden name… Wasn't it Evans?'

Harry stubbornly shook his head. 'No. It has to be Severus. My mum was the only person he ever loved unconditionally. And she loved him, too. Until he was too far in…' Harry choked. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Ginny sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, looking down at Harry's supine from. 'Both of them damn near killed you,' she finally said. 'More than once.'

'I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for either of them.'

'Why is it so important to you?'

'I told you. Naming him after Snape is for my mum. I don't think he ought to be forgotten.' Harry rubbed his gritty eyes. He had never told Ginny about Snape's funeral. Of all the things in those terrible days Harry didn't remember, he could clearly remember Snape's funeral. Nobody else was there. Harry had had Snape buried at the edge of the cemetery where his parents were buried. Every year, he went to pay his respects to Snape, sitting at the grave, staring at the simple headstone until his eyes burned. 'I need to do this, Gin.'

Ginny drew her knees into her chest. Harry's bracelet began to vibrate, and he sighed and got up. He left the room, closing the door behind him. She stared at the door. She had honestly expected him to want to use Remus. Harry was one for using names as a way to remember people. James' name was a testament to that, being named for his grandfather and Harry's godfather. Ginny had thought he would want Remus for the simple reason that Remus filled the paternal void left after Sirius' death.

Nearly an hour later, Harry slipped back into the room, smelling strongly of talcum powder. Ginny watched him slide his jeans down his legs and get into the bed. _Mum always told me marriage is about compromise_, she thought.

Ginny cleared her throat. 'All right,' she said. 'If it means that much to you.'

Harry's eyes searched hers. 'You're fine with it?'

Ginny exhaled strongly through her nose. 'Not really.' She cupped the side of Harry's face. 'But you want it.'

Harry's eyes closed briefly, and he took Ginny's hand, kissing the palm. 'Thank you.'

* * *

A/N: Whether or not Lily actually was in love with Snape before he joined the Death Eaters isn't the issue... It's what Harry believes from what he saw in the Pensieve.

And I don't believe Ginny ever got used to having her child named for Snape...


	15. Between Two Silences

Ginny lay quietly, watching Harry sleep. She was reminded of the month before she went back for her last year of school when they spent hours in the hammock at the bottom of the back garden. They would lay nose-to-nose and talk. Or sleep. Harry seemed to sleep better lying in that hammock with her than he did in the camp bed.

Harry looked so young when he was asleep. The habitually tense lines of his face relaxed and Ginny could see what he might have looked like if he'd lived a different life.

He had a photograph of himself as a newborn with his parents. Ginny thought it might be a bit too early to tell, but she fancied Bun… No, _Albus_, looked like Harry had as a baby.

_That's going to take some getting used to_, she mused. _I don't think I'm ever going to understand why he had to use Severus, though. If we have another one, __I'm__ naming it!_

Ginny felt Harry stir in his sleep and watched as his eyelids fluttered open. He smiled with singular sweetness at her. 'Morning,' he murmured sleepily.

'Morning.'

'How long you been watching?' he yawned.

'Since the last feeding.'

Harry frowned. 'How long ago was that? I slept through your alarm…'

Ginny's mouth curved into a small smile. 'An hour and a half.'

'Why didn't you go back to sleep?'

'I'll sleep later.' Ginny's hands traced over the contours of Harry's face.

'I really am sorry, Gin. For not getting here sooner.'

Ginny's hand dropped down to Harry's chest. 'It's all right,' she shrugged in seeming indifference.

'I tried. I really did. It just took longer than I thought it would to get Kingsley caught up.'

Ginny tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. 'How did you know to come here the other night?'

'Percy,' Harry replied.

'Percy?'

'Yeah. He went to Kingsley's house and said I needed to come home. Kingsley said Percy was most insistent.' Harry shifted in the bed, his knees bumping Ginny's. 'We need a bigger bed in here,' he grumbled.

'I didn't know Percy had it in him,' Ginny smirked.

'I was going to leave as soon as Kingsley told me about you and the ba… _Albus_.' Harry made a face at Ginny. 'That's going to take some getting used to,' he said, echoing her earlier thoughts. 'He wouldn't let me leave In…' Harry stopped himself, still unsure of how much to tell Ginny. 'He wouldn't let me leave until we got him up to speed. It took longer than I thought it would.'

Ginny turned so her back was nestled into Harry's chest. 'Why are you telling me this?'

'I owe you an explanation. I promised you I would be here for you and I wasn't.' Harry buried his face in the back of Ginny's neck. 'I have to go back Sunday,' he told her, his voice barely audible, as if he didn't want to admit he had to leave again.

'I was wondering when you had to leave.' Ginny's eyes remained dry.

'I wish I didn't have to,' Harry confessed.

'I wish you didn't have to, either, but we live in the real world.' Ginny felt her eyes burn. 'And you would never leave a job unfinished, love.'

'Do you want me to stop?'

'Oh…' Ginny laced her fingers through Harry's. 'I can't ask you to do that.'

'I'm asking if you, Ginevra Potter, want me to stop being an Auror,' Harry said tightly.

Ginny took in a breath. 'I don't know,' she allowed. 'Sometimes, I wish you had a more _normal_ job, like Bill or George or Ron. Where I don't have to worry so much. But,' Ginny sighed and drew in a quaking breath. 'But, I can't ask you to stop being you, because then you wouldn't be the man I married.'

Ginny glanced over her shoulder at Harry. 'What about you? What if I went back to playing?' She felt Harry's body stiffen in surprise.

'Do you want to?'

Ginny let herself think about what it might be like to play Quidditch professionally with small children. A nanny, possibly. Leaving to Floo to the practice pitch at the crack of dawn. Training all day and coming home exhausted. Ginny recalled being so tired on the weekends when she played for the Harpies, she spent most of Saturday doing as little as she could get away with. She shuddered at the idea of really only spending Sunday with her sons.

But the idea of making Harry wait and wonder was still oddly appealing, even though he was lying next to her. Just to give him a taste of what she had gone through since before they got married.

'Gwenog…' Ginny cleared her throat. 'Gwenog offered me a position on the team. Anytime I wanted, if I wanted to come back.'

'Oh.' Harry's fingers traced patterns on Ginny's arm. 'Are you?' he asked, almost not wanting to hear her say "yes". He thought she was much happier not playing, but didn't dare dream to tell her that.

'I don't know.'

Harry's bracelet buzzed, interrupting their quiet conversation. Ginny felt him sigh against her. 'Perfect timing,' he muttered, sliding out of bed.

Ginny sagged against the pillows. She had felt Harry's body tense slightly when he mentioned going back to his assignment. Not enough for most people to notice, but enough for her to tell. She had thought about what her mother had told her yesterday – that it might be best if she didn't know. Ginny had spent the silences in which she enticed Albus into eating thinking about that. As much as she longed to know where he was, she knew she would obsessively scour the paper to see if anything had happened where he was.

It was what she had done the year he was gone with the wireless and Potterwatch.

It had nearly driven her mad, in spite of the veneer she presented of calm control.

On the other hand…

_Isn't there always another hand?_ Ginny silently snorted.

On the other hand, Ginny was tired of feeling left out. She didn't think they did it deliberately to her. If she let herself think logically about it, Ginny was certain there were things she knew that neither Ron, nor Hermione did. But they did have this… Thing. She didn't know how else to describe it. Ron and Hermione were as close as she and Harry were. _Maybe even more_, Ginny reflected. _They've been through quite a bit the past two years._ And they were Harry's best friends. Ginny often didn't know at times just quite where she fit into the grand scheme of things. She was Harry's wife, after all. But she existed in this odd, liminal plane. Part of their friendship, yet outside of it as well.

She wanted to be closer than they were.

Just this once.

* * *

Harry set the bottle on the floor next to the rocking chair and slowly rocked Albus. He'd been trying for ten minutes to wake him, just to take another cc of milk. But Albus seemed to have inherited his parents' stubbornness in equal measures.

He still wasn't any closer to figuring out what to say to Ginny. Telling her he had to go back had been hard enough. Harry also knew that Ron had been right; Ginny would never ask him to quit. And honestly, Harry didn't think he could.

He gently ran a fingertip over Albus' tightly clenched fist, and it opened, then closed over his finger.

It sent a jolt through his arm.

_No, I can't quit. Not yet. Not until I know that none of my children will ever have to face their own death._

Harry looked down at the small head, tucked under his chin. _One day, I will have to explain your name to you._

The Albus part of the name was easy. Nobody would fault Harry for naming his son after Dumbledore. It was the Severus he was going to have to explain. And nobody, save Ginny, knew exactly what it was between his mother and Snape. He didn't think anyone would buy his rationale that Snape deserved recognition, too. And he wasn't really eager to talk about how much Snape had meant to his mum. Not even to Ron and Hermione.

That was personal.

Ginny was the only one who knew everything, and it had taken him most of an exceedingly difficult afternoon to tell her what he had seen in Snape's memories.

_Ne obliviscaris_.

It was engraved on the headstone under Snape's name.

Never forget.

Harry shifted in the rocking chair. _He'd probably be sneering in revulsion that I named my son after him._

'How are we this morning?' Shanti's voice intruded on Harry's silent ruminations over the ramifications of naming his son after a man so many people still hated.

'Okay, I suppose.'

Shanti took the notes from Ewan, who had been on night duty. 'Do you have a name yet?'

'Albus.' Harry continued in a rush before his courage failed. 'Albus Severus,' he said quietly.

To her credit, Shanti merely blinked, and with great aplomb, simply nodded and made a note at the top of Albus' file.

'When can he go home?' Harry asked, as if he hadn't noticed Shanti's reaction.

'Depends. When he's steadily gaining weight. When he can maintain his body temperature without all the Warming charms.' Shanti trailed off as she read through the overnight report from Ewan. 'Could be in a week, could be more.' Shanti shut the file and gave Harry the kind of look that reminded him uncomfortably of Minerva McGonagall at her best. 'You're going back to whatever is you were doing soon, aren't you?'

'Yeah…'

Shanti just nodded again. 'Be careful, will you?'

'I always am.' Harry continued to rock in silence. 'Will he be all right before I leave?'

Shanti sat in the chair next to the rocking chair. 'I can't make any guarantees.' She gave Harry a cryptic look. 'Will someone know how to reach you? Just in case something does happen while you're gone?'

'I'll make sure Ginny does.' _This time._

* * *

Harry sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, paging through copies of the past month's _Prophet_. On the back page, an announcement caught his eye. He stared down at the paper in open-mouthed astonishment. Ginny walked back into the room to eat the breakfast Molly had brought earlier. Harry held the paper up to Ginny. 'Did you see this?' he demanded.

Ginny took the paper from Harry, looking at the brief article he pointed out. 'Scorpius?' she gagged. 'Are you kidding me?'

Harry took the paper back from Ginny, a thoughtful expression on his face. 'Interesting…' he remarked.

'What is?'

Harry pointed to the names of the parents. 'Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass Malfoy.'

'So?' Ginny peeled an orange.

'They're both Slytherins,' Harry said simply, as if that explained everything.

'And your point?' Ginny separated the orange into sections, and held one out to Harry.

Harry took the orange section from Ginny. 'I just never thought about Slytherins, you know… _Reproducing_.' He gestured at the announcement with the orange, dripping juice all over his pajama bottoms. 'It's just not natural.'

'I'm sure they say the same thing about Gryffindors,' Ginny said dryly around a mouthful of orange.

Harry took another section of orange from Ginny. 'I mean, is it _safe_ for Slytherins to…' Harry blushed a particularly rich shade of magenta. 'Um, have sex?'

Ginny exploded into gales of laughter. 'Oh, Harry… Why wouldn't it be?' she spluttered.

Harry's shoulders hunched and he shoved the piece of orange he held in his hand into his mouth. 'I dunno,' he muttered. 'I always thought they were sort of like praying mantises, where the female kills the mate afterward.'

'So, what? Someone stands by and throws up a _Protego_ in the afterglow?' Ginny scoffed.

'Maybe…' Harry folded the paper with machine-like precision. 'It would be funny if it were true,' he smirked. 'Awkward, though.' He looked back down at the paper in his hands. 'Hey, he'll be in the same year as Rose and Albus.'

'Yeah.' Ginny grinned. 'Talk about history repeating itself.'

'You can say that again,' Harry muttered.

* * *

'Why don't you come to see James with me?' Harry suggested, as he ran Ginny's hairbrush through his wet hair.

Ginny cast a doubtful glance at the door and into the other room. 'I don't know…'

'Just for a couple of hours, Gin,' Harry coaxed. 'You won't get much one-on-one time with James much longer. He really misses us.'

Ginny shook her head, hair flying around her head. 'I can't,' she whispered. 'I can't leave him.'

Harry sat on the chair and tied the laces of his trainers. He knew it was pointless to argue with Ginny once she had made up her mind. 'I'll be back in a few hours.' He kissed Ginny and began to walk out the door.

'Harry?' Ginny's voice stopped him, and Harry turned around. 'Maybe you could bring him up here? Just for a little bit?' Ginny couldn't keep the yearning out of her voice.

'Of course.' Harry walked out into the lobby and headed for an Apparition point. He re-appeared in the lane outside the Burrow, and opened the gate to the back garden. He was earlier than he had been the previous day. Walking up to the back door, Harry saw something that surprised him: Molly sitting slumped at the table, head tiredly propped up in one hand. James was sitting in his chair, picking at some potatoes and mushy peas.

Harry was concerned. Molly was nothing if not indefatigable. Even in the days after Fred's funeral, Molly was the one who refused to lie about in a funk. Harry still didn't remember much about the weeks after the battle, but the image of Molly tirelessly cooking for all the Weasleys flashed into his memory. Harry opened the door, and Molly glanced up in surprise. 'Dahdee!' James slid out of his chair with only a minor bit of difficulty, and ran to Harry, chubby arms wrapping around Harry's knee.

Harry reached down, and hefted James into his arms. 'Hi, James. Let's go finish your lunch, all right?' James nodded vigorously and let Harry put him back into his chair, happily using his fingers to push peas onto his spoon.

Harry reached over and gently touched the back of Molly's hand that was lying on the table. 'Are you all right?'

'Didn't sleep much last night,' Molly sighed. She gave Harry and opaque glance then shot a look at James. 'He was rather… Upset, I suppose, when he woke up from his nap and you weren't here.' Molly rubbed her hands over her face. 'Poor chap was inconsolable for a while. Cried himself to sleep, then woke up a few hours later, crying for you or Ginny.' She poured herself a glass of cold lemonade, then pushed the jug toward Harry.

Harry felt his eyebrows rise in alarm. 'I was going to see if I could take him up to see Ginny later,' he said. 'I'm not so sure I should now.'

'No, take him. He needs to spend a little time with the two of you.'

'And you can take a nap?' Harry guessed.

'Am I that transparent?' Molly asked, letting her mouth quirk in a hint of a smile.

Harry shook his head. 'I can come back here at night,' he ventured, but Molly waved him off.

'Ginny'll be home soon. Arthur and I can handle it for a few more days.' Molly glanced at James, dragging his spoon through the peas. 'I think he's done there.' She pulled herself to her feet and ducked into the scullery, reappearing a moment later with some fresh clothes. She picked up a wet dishcloth, and gave James a hasty wash with it, while James protested mightily. Molly just ignored James' howls. She pulled the clean t-shirt over James' head. 'You want to look smart for Mummy, don't you?'

Finished, she handed James to Harry. 'Don't forget his nap, all right?'

'Wouldn't dream of it,' responded Harry. He carried James outside and out into the lane. 'Hang on, mate,' he said into James' hair, and turned.

* * *

Harry set James down in Ginny's room. 'Don't move,' he warned. Ginny wasn't in the room, so Harry went to check the other room. Ginny was in her usual spot in the rocking chair. 'Hey, Gin.'

Ginny looked up, scrubbing at her tear-stained face.

'What happened?'

'He stopped breathing. Three times while you were gone.'

Harry took a few steps into the room, looking over his shoulder. James was still sitting in the middle of the bed, playing with a few of Arthur's plugs. 'Is he all right?'

Ginny nodded, running her hands through her hair. Harry didn't blame her for being upset. Even though they knew what was happening, it still made for a rather frightening experience.

'Are _you_ all right?'

Ginny nodded. 'Just a little hormonal, still.'

'I brought James. He's in your room.'

'Will you stay in here?' Ginny rose from the rocking chair, and gestured at the vacated seat.

'Sure.' Harry waited until Ginny had gone into her room. He could hear James' cries of 'Mummmmeeee!' as Ginny crossed the threshold into her room.

* * *

Harry laid Albus back into the cot and swiftly buttoned his shirt, one-handed. He found if he held Albus in the kangaroo pose, he often lost track of time. Harry caught the trainee's eye. It was Sarah this time. 'Sarah? One of us will be back in a moment. I'm just going to take James home.'

Harry stole quietly into Ginny's room, and found Ginny and James, curled up together in the bed, sound asleep. Harry leaned over Ginny and patted her leg until she woke up. 'I need to take James back,' he whispered.

'Okay,' she said groggily, nestling back into the pillow, and going back to sleep. Harry managed to lift James into his arms and Apparate the two of them back to the Burrow without waking James.

* * *

Ginny closed the door and slid gratefully into bed. Harry was lying on his back, looking at the ceiling. 'Are you really going to take Gwenog up on her offer?'

'I don't know. I'm going to take at least the six months off the paper gives me, maybe even a year.' Ginny rested her head on Harry's shoulder. 'I'm going to think about it,' she admitted.

'You'll go spare taking a whole year off,' Harry predicted.

'I'm just taking a year off from the grind of the paper. I'll still do a few freelance pieces for _Quidditch Quarterly_ or _Which Broomstick_. Keep my hand in.'

Harry turned so he faced Ginny in the small bed. He rested his forehead against hers and took a deep breath. 'I'm in Inverness,' he confessed nearly soundlessly.

To Ginny it seemed as if that simple pronouncement sucked all the air out of the room. Her eyes widened and she found herself unable to breathe. 'Why?'

Harry brushed a kiss across her cheek. 'Because that's where the idiot lives who was threatening Hermione and Percy.'

'No, why are you telling me?'

'I've always told you before. And your dad kidnapped me the other night. Gave me quite an earful before he let me come back.' Harry's hand slid down Ginny's arm to lace his fingers through hers. 'I heard your mum yesterday, too.'

Ginny's hand closed around Harry's in a spasm of surprise.

'Your dad said you deserved to be treated like an adult. He said that by leaving you so in the dark about everything it was demeaning to you.' Harry paused to take in a shaky breath. 'And your mum's right, too. Maybe it's best not to know anything, but that's what I've been doing all along with this, and it's obviously not working well this time.

'So I'm going to try both.'

'How's that going to work?' Ginny asked skeptically.

'I will tell you that mostly I'm in Inverness, but I can't tell you where exactly. If you need me in an emergency, go to Kingsley. If I'd told you that before I left, I would have been here sooner. I wasn't thinking properly before.'

Ginny nodded, thousands of questions flying to her lips, but staying silent, her nose brushing Harry's.

'Whoever this is, they don't like Hermione trying to regulate house-elf treatment. Or that Percy's helping her with the legal stuff.'

'All right.'

'They get these notes. The most prosaic, derivative thing possible. They cut out letters from magazines and stick them to parchment to make words. It's something out of a bad Muggle mystery novel. If you get one, I want you to take it to Kingsley immediately.'

'Do you know who it is?' Ginny breathed.

'Yes.' Harry looked over his shoulder at the door. It was firmly shut and Harry had added a _Muffliato_ to the Silencing charms that were already on it. He bent his head, until his lips brushed against Ginny's ear and whispered a name.

Ginny reared back, her face white with shock. 'No…'

Harry laid a finger over Ginny's lips. 'Yes.'

* * *

A/N: The British film and stage director Peter Brook once said, '…there are two ends of the pole of silence. There is a dead silence, the silence of the dead, which doesn't help any of us, and … there is the other silence, which is the supreme moment of communication – the moment when people normally divided from one another by every sort of natural human barrier suddenly find themselves truly together…

In between the two silences… are the … areas where all the questions arise.' (quoted from _Between Two Silences_: _Talking with Peter Brook_, edited by Dale Moffitt, Southern Methodist University Press, 1999)

It seemed to fit this chapter.


	16. Confessions and Revelations

'_Do you know who it is?' Ginny breathed._

'_Yes.' Harry looked over his shoulder at the door. It was firmly shut and Harry had added a __Muffliato__ to the Silencing charms that were already on it. He bent his head, until his lips brushed against Ginny's ear and whispered a name._

_Ginny reared back, her face white with shock. 'No…'_

_Harry laid a finger over Ginny's lips. 'Yes.'_

* * *

Ginny stared at Harry. 'But _why_?'

Harry shook his head. 'I don't know.'

Ginny nibbled a ragged fingernail while she paged through her memory. She remembered reading something in the paper one morning when they still lived in Soho. 'I thought she was under some sort of house arrest or probation or something?' she asked perplexed.

'She was.' Harry wound a strand of Ginny's hair around his finger. 'She gave Magical Law Enforcement the slip.' His eyes narrowed with disgust. 'Idiots. We told them everything we knew about her, and they didn't listen,' he snorted contemptuously. 'Bloody bureaucratic drones.'

'You know…' Ginny began slowly. 'Hermione was responsible for having her put under house arrest.'

'Yeah. I thought about that.' Harry stretched like a cat. 'But that was years ago. Why bring it up now?'

Ginny propped herself up on an elbow. 'You don't like her,' she stated. 'And for good reason,' she quickly added, overriding Harry's splutters. 'But I've haven't been a target of hers, really, just once or twice, so perhaps I can see it more clearly.' Ginny's reporter's mind was spinning furiously, pulling seemingly disconnected ideas together and finding the common thread of it all. 'She bides her time. Waits for the right moment.' Ginny suddenly snorted with ironic laughter. 'Have you ever asked McGonagall or even Dumbledore's portrait what house she was in at school?'

'No, why?'

'And you're supposed to be next in line for Head of your department,' Ginny said, with faint pity.

Harry jerked. 'How do you know that? _I_ don't even know that.'

'Just because I cover Quidditch doesn't mean I don't pay attention to politics,' Ginny sniffed. 'You'd be amazed at what gets said in the press box. Reporters are terrible gossips. Especially when the Cannons are playing,' she remarked.

Harry just stared at her, as if she was speaking Mermish.

'Whoever this is, they sound rather Slytherin-like. Serving revenge stone-cold and all that.' Ginny examined her nails critically, and nibbled a hangnail. 'I thought you were supposed to be good at your job.'

'Stop that,' Harry said distractedly, pulling Ginny's hand from her mouth, as the impact of Ginny's statements put themselves together. 'Wait a minute; I _am_ good at my job.'

'Could have fooled me,' Ginny commented wryly.

'Go to sleep, Gin,' Harry grumbled, stung.

Ginny snickered and settled back down into the pillow. 'You know you love me,' she sang softly.

Harry sighed and pulled his glasses off. He peered at Ginny nearsightedly. 'I think you've finally gone barmy,' he said conversationally, pulling the bedclothes up around his ears. 'I'm brilliant at my job. And there's no way they'll make me the next Head anytime soon. I'm too young.'

'Not in terms of how long you've been there,' Ginny corrected. 'It's been almost eight years.'

Harry snorted. 'Keep dreaming. It'll never happen. It's not really what I want anyway.'

'You say that now…'

Harry wrapped an arm around Ginny's waist. 'And it's true,' he told her. 'I'm not angling for Head anytime soon.'

'You're already doing most of the work,' Ginny argued.

'Just the training,' Harry demurred.

'Not just the training.' Ginny sat up again, glaring at Harry. 'You've organized everything about this assignment, down to the last detail.'

Harry reached up and pulled Ginny back down to him. 'That's still not going to make me Head,' he countered. 'And I don't really want it.' Harry nuzzled Ginny's neck. 'I miss this,' he murmured.

'Wrap up your assignments more quickly next time, then.'

* * *

Hermione peered into the room. 'Harry? Are you busy?'

Harry glanced at Hermione over the rims of his glasses. 'I'm not about to dash off anywhere.'

She inched uncertainly into the room, visibly trying _not_ to wring her hands together. Harry noticed with an amused expression. 'Something on your mind, Hermione?' Harry asked, tucking the blanket around Albus a little more.

Hermione brushed at some non-existent lint on her blouse. 'Have you talked to Ginny lately?'

'Yeah. When she and I switched places so she could eat breakfast.' Harry inclined his head toward the empty chair next to him, inviting Hermione to sit. 'Why?'

'Did she tell you about Gwenog's offer?' Hermione asked nervously.

'Yeah. Said she think about it while she's on leave from the paper.'

'That's all she said?'

There was an undertone to Hermione's seemingly innocent query that made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand up. He stood up and laid Albus in the cot, grasping Hermione's arm, and taking her out into the deserted waiting area. 'What are you getting at?' he demanded.

'This is not how I meant this to go,' Hermione sighed. 'We talked about it, last Sunday afternoon before lunch.'

'Talked about what?' Harry asked nonplussed. It had been another rough night with Albus, and Harry was not in a mood to dance around the topic.

'Ginny going back to the Harpies,' Hermione said with slight impatience. 'Keep up.'

'Don't start, Hermione,' Harry warned. 'I've been up most of the night.'

Hermione remained unperturbed by Harry's flash of annoyance. It took more than that to dislodge her once she got a topic of conversation in her grip. 'Did she tell you why she might go back?'

Hermione shifted on her feet, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation's mood. Harry's face had smoothed ominously into a neutral expression Hermione knew far too well. 'No,' he said shortly. 'I had to go feed Albus, and we never got back to it.'

'Oh, well, maybe you could… Wait… _Albus_?' Hermione gave Harry astonished glance. 'Albus? You named the baby Albus?'

'Yes,' Harry replied stiffly.

'Do you want him to get beaten up in primary school?'

'Why does everyone seem to think he'll be beaten up?' Harry sighed.

'Maybe he can use his middle name,' Hermione said brightly. 'What is it?'

Harry looked straight into Hermione's eyes. 'Severus,' he declared, all but daring her to say something about it.

'Not Remus?' she blurted. 'I mean he was your father's best friend,' she covered hastily.

'That's for Teddy, in case he has a son, and he can name him after his father.'

'But Harry,' Hermione began timidly. 'You despise Snape.'

'That's his name, Hermione, all right?'

'All right.' Hermione knew when to make a strategic retreat. She gathered her handbag and briefcase. 'But maybe you should talk to Ginny about the Harpies a bit more,' she advised.

'Hermione, I'm leaving in two days,' Harry began, irritated. 'I don't want to get into another strop with Ginny. We just started talking to each other again.'

Hermione nodded and adjusted the strap of her handbag.

Harry ran his hand through his hair. 'I'm sorry,' he said softly. 'It's been…'

'It's been a difficult week,' Hermione finished for him. 'Not the first time you've snapped at me,' she said, trying to inject some humor into the conversation.

'I'll try to talk to her,' Harry acquiesced. 'But I won't make any promises.' He stooped and kissed Hermione on the cheek. 'If I don't see you again before Sunday…' he enfolded her into an embrace. 'You do realize you only get away with being a brat because that's how sisters are supposed to be?' he commented.

Hermione returned the hug. 'I'm just worried.' She released Harry and started to leave. 'Be careful, won't you?'

'Hey, I'm not seventeen anymore!' Harry protested.

'Doesn't mean you've totally changed,' Hermione scoffed as she left.

Harry watched Hermione Floo to the Ministry, a thoughtful expression on his face. He turned around and went back through the double doors to Ginny's room. Ginny was slumped in a chair, a half-eaten scone in one hand, while she propped up her head in the other, asleep. Harry gently pried the scone from Ginny's lax grip and laid it on a plate on the table next to her. He went back to the baby, unwilling to wake Ginny, just to talk to her about something that was at least a year away. 'We can talk about it later,' he mumbled, dropping into the rocking chair. There had been something in the tone of Hermione's voice that made him think there was more to Ginny's considering playing Quidditch again.

And it wasn't because Ginny itched to get back on a broom.

Harry could clearly remember the poorly concealed relief on Ginny's face when she informed him she wouldn't be signing her new contract at the end of the season.

Harry wasn't foolish enough to believe Ginny had suddenly developed an interest in playing again. He had seen her shaking with the effort to hold back her sobs as he Apparated from the Burrow a month ago, not to mention the unease in her eyes when he had told her the assignment was somewhat indefinite.

If she went back to the Harpies… _If_… Harry knew things would change. And not necessarily for the better.

* * *

Hermione opened the shop door, giving the small box over it a long-suffering glance. Charlie may have been one of the more reserved members of the family, but like all the Weasley men, he couldn't resist a challenge. At Arthur's last birthday party, Bill had dared him to burp the first line of 'God Save the King'. She waved to George, making one last sale before lunch, and ducked into the back room, clattering up the stairs to the flat.

Ron was in the tiny kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. 'Hello, hen.' He leaned down and kissed her. 'How are things?'

'Just talked to Mum and Rosie's fine.'

'And other things?'

'They're talking,' Hermione answered cautiously. 'Decided on a name for the baby.'

'They did?' George closed the door of the flat with a sigh. 'It's about time.'

'So?' Ron prodded. 'What is it?'

Hermione took a seat at the table, and picked up her glass of water. Taking a sip, she ran a fingertip around the rim. 'Albus,' she revealed.

'Do they _want_ the poor kid to get beaten up?' George asked incredulously. 'Even Percy had more bloody sense than to name his kid something like that.'

'Could go by his middle name,' Ron interjected judiciously.

Hermione shook her head. 'No, he can't.'

George's face took on an almost-comical expression of apprehension. 'Why?'

Hermione took in a deep breath. 'It's Severus,' she gulped.

George dropped his spoon into his bowl with a messy _splat_. 'Please say you're joking,' he begged, his hand unconsciously stroking the right side of his head where his ear used to be.

'He seemed rather adamant about it.' Hermione toyed with her own spoon.

Ron, who hadn't said anything yet, cleared his throat. 'He must have a good reason,' he stated loyally.

George gaped at his youngest brother. 'Don't you know?' he asked in disbelief. 'I thought the three of you knew everything about each other.'

Hermione shook her head. 'I've been thinking about it all morning. I keep drawing a blank.'

'I thought he'd use Remus,' Ron mused. 'Since he was best friends with Harry's father and all.'

'That would follow his pattern,' George agreed.

'You don't think Harry's finally gone out of his tree, do you?' Ron asked with more than a bit of worry.

'No,' Hermione said. 'Do you remember, a week after Fred's funeral and he was sitting by the river?'

'Yeah,' Ron said slowly.

'Don't you remember what he said?'

Ron's brow wrinkled as he sifted through his own hazy memories of the weeks after the battle. 'Something about owing Snape…?' Ron gave Hermione a skeptical look. 'You think this is his way of paying Snape back?'

'That's too bloody noble. Even for Harry,' George declared, turning his attention to his lunch, and changing the subject to the end of the school term tomorrow and the extended hours for the shop.

* * *

Charlie looked up from his position on the floor, where he was playing with Isabella before she went to bed. George's owl tapped the window again. 'Go let Uncle George's owl in, Izzy,' he told his daughter, who bounded to the window and unlatched it, allowing the barn owl into the house. She raced to the kitchen, and found the box of Owl Treats in a cupboard and carried a double handful back to the sitting room. 'Here, Daddy,' she said, holding her hands out.

'Thanks, Izzy,' Charlie said. He untied the letter from George and set it down on the floor next to his sketchbook. He took the treats from Isabella and offered a few of them to the owl, which ate them gratefully. Charlie picked up one of the cups from Isabella's toy tea set and murmured, '_Aguamenti_,' filling it with water. He held this out to the owl as well. The owl hooted softly, drank some of the water and flew out of the window again. Charlie placed the letter inside his sketchbook for safekeeping, and Banished it to the kitchen table.

Charlie could see the edge of the envelope out of the corner of his eye for the next few minutes while he helped Isabella put her wooden blocks away. He picked her up and tucked Isabella into bed. He could hear Bronwyn come into the house from her shift at the infirmary and met her in the kitchen. 'We got a letter from George,' he said, pulling it out of the sketchbook.

Bronwyn stretched and poured herself a cup of tea from the pot Charlie had been keeping warm on the table. 'Hope everything's all right.'

Charlie shrugged, and pried the envelope open. His eyes widened and he wordlessly handed the letter to Bronwyn. She scanned it quickly, choking on her tea. 'This has to be a joke,' she spluttered.

'I don't think so.'

'How could he?' Bronwyn wondered aloud. She looked at Charlie with a glint in her eye. 'If you had asked me to name my child after that git, I'd have you committed to St. Mungo's ward for Permanent Spell Damage.' When Charlie gave her a dubious look, she snorted. 'I can do it, too.' She shuddered. 'He made Potions a living nightmare. It was the only class I dreaded.'

Charlie looked back down at the letter. 'He must have a damn compelling reason, or Ginny'd never agree to it.'

Later, when Bronwyn had gone up to bed, Charlie sat in the sitting room, restlessly sketching out random images that came into his head. One of them was an exaggerated portrait of Severus Snape from Charlie's first year of school. He ground the point of his pencil into the thick paper, trying to make the lines of Snape's bat-like robes heavy and sharp. The point violently broke and Charlie threw the sketchbook down on the floor. He pushed himself off the sofa and glanced down at his watch. It was late, but Bill would still be up. Charlie threw a handful of Floo powder in the fireplace and stuck his head into the emerald flames. 'Shell Cottage.'

Charlie opened his eyes, and softly called out, 'Bill? You there?'

'Yeah,' Bill's voice floated from Charlie's right. 'What's wrong?' Bill came to crouch in front of the fireplace.

'Nothing, really.' Charlie chewed his lip, gazing at the toes of Bill's worn slippers. 'They named the baby,' he said abruptly.

'Oh?'

'Albus –' Charlie began.

'That's not so bad,' Bill remarked. 'Harry did look up to him quite a bit.'

'That's not all,' Charlie continued. 'It's Albus Severus.'

'Have they both lost their minds?' Bill gasped.

'I hope not,' Charlie muttered. 'It's an odd choice, that.'

'You can say that again,' Bill sighed.

* * *

Arthur wearily pulled the blanket over James. He didn't have to heart to tell Harry just how much it affected James when he woke from his nap and Harry wasn't there. Harry had guiltily noticed the fatigue evident on Arthur and Molly's faces, offering with increasing urgency to come stay at the Burrow with James at night. Arthur merely waved him off, and said he would have to leave in a couple of days anyway. He trudged up the stairs to his bedroom and all but fell into bed next to Molly. He turned his head on the pillow, and saw Molly look at him out of the corner of her eye, then quickly glance away. 'Spit it out, Mollywobbles.'

'Severus?' she blurted. 'Honestly? Severus,' Molly repeated for emphasis. She turned on her side huffily. 'If he'd wanted to name the baby for somebody he could have used Gideon or Fabian. Or even Remus? Why do you suppose he didn't use Remus?'

'Does it really matter?' Arthur asked gently.

'Do you want your grandson to be named for a _traitor_?'

'He wasn't a traitor, Molly.'

'As good as one,' she argued.

'He didn't have a choice.' Arthur reached for Molly's hand, bringing it to his lips. 'He had to play both sides for Harry to succeed. He died an ignominious death, with not a soul in the world to mourn him. Let Harry have this.'

* * *

Percy blinked sleepily at the owl tapping on his bedroom window. He slid out of bed and shuffled to take the letter, recognizing Ron's owl, praying it wasn't bad news. He untied the letter, and turned in befuddled circles. _Owl Treats… Did we bring any up here_? he thought, still only half-conscious. By the time he had come to the conclusion there were no treats in the bedroom, the owl had left.

Percy shoved his glasses on his nose, and took the letter into the kitchen, turning on a dim light. _I wonder what would make Ron write to me this time of night?_ Percy turned the letter over and opened the envelope, sliding the short note from it. He felt his eyebrows rise several inches when he read Ron's terse announcement. ­_This is a dream,_ he told himself. _I'm going to wake up in a minute, and it will all be a dream._

Percy set the scrap of parchment down on the table, as if it were one of the more "exciting" products from the shop. He looked down at his arm and pinched it viciously, emitting a muffled yelp. _Guess I'm not dreaming it after all._

He eyed the parchment on the table. _Of all the people, he has to use __Severus__?_ Percy shook his head in disbelief. He would never begin to understand Harry.

* * *

Harry faffed about a bit in the bathroom, slowly brushing his teeth and shaving with exquisite attention to detail. He pulled on his pajama bottoms and a clean t-shirt, carefully folding his clothes. Finally with nothing left to do, but get into bed, Harry opened the bathroom door.

Ginny lay curled on her side, exhausted. Albus hadn't had any apnea episodes since last night, but it hadn't kept either him or Ginny from obsessively watching the baby's chest rise and fall. Harry had heard Ginny counting the seconds aloud between breaths before dinner.

He laid his clothing on the chair and slid into the bed, next to Ginny. Harry shifted for a moment, settling in to spoon Ginny before his opened his mouth. 'Gin? Why do you want to play again?'

'I don't,' she said, and Harry felt the back of her neck grow warm against his cheek.

'Liar.'

'I really don't!' she insisted.

'All right, then.' Harry propped himself up on his elbow. 'Then why are you considering playing?'

Ginny turned in the narrow bed, her face stormy. 'I'm not even going to think about it until _after_ the boys are older,' she asserted.

'Hypothetically, then.' Harry shrugged. 'Let's pretend we don't have kids for five minutes.'

Ginny stared at him. 'It's complicated,' she mumbled.

'Try me. I can do complicated,' Harry suggested calmly.

Ginny opened her mouth. 'It's childish,' she snorted, playing with the hem of the sheet.

'Ginny,' Harry warned.

Ginny picked at a thread in the sheet. 'So I can leave you behind,' she mumbled.

Harry felt the blood drain from his face.


	17. Cruel to be Kind

A/N: I promised Steph if it got blurry around the edges, I'd leave out lots of chocolate-chip brownies. And M&Ms.

* * *

Ron patted Rose's back gently until a soft belch rumbled from her mouth. He chuckled quietly and laid her back into her cot, resting his crossed arms across the top. Rose gurgled and waved her tiny hands at Ron, a wide gummy grin on her face. 'Learning how to Keep already, are you?' Ron murmured. 'That's my girl,' he whispered conspiratorially. 'Don't tell your mum,' he added. 'She'll get a bit shirty.' He tucked the blanket over Rose and slipped out of the room.

Hermione was sitting up cross-legged in bed, a notebook balanced on one knee, and a large tome resting in her lap. 'Thanks,' she said distractedly. 'Was she hungry?'

'Uh-huh. Wet, too.' Ron slid into bed and stifled a yawn. He stacked his hands behind his head and gazed at the ceiling. 'So…'

Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eye. 'What?'

'Why after Snape? Isn't that taking the concept of owing him a bit far?'

Hermione sighed and closed the book, hefting it to her night table. 'Probably.' She scooted closer to Ron and lay down, resting her head on his chest. 'Makes me wonder, though,' she began. 'Just what was it that he saw in the Pensieve? You don't think his mum and Snape…? Were more than friends?'

'Nah.' Ron dismissed the idea immediately. 'According to Harry, Snape was a slimy git, even when he was a kid.'

'Still.' Hermione traced the faded scars on Ron's forearms. 'Harry doesn't have much materially to pass down to his children from his parents. Except the names. And remembrance of them is very important to him.'

'Snape wasn't a parent.'

'No.' Hermione shifted, so she lay half draped over Ron. 'But Harry's tried so hard to make people change their opinions of him.'

'Yeah. Old habits die hard, I suppose.' Ron played with Hermione's hair. 'Man left a bad taste in your mouth most of the time. Regardless of what he did.'

Hermione lay quietly for a moment. 'It's done, though. I don't think he'll be persuaded to change it, though. Seems like he'd been thinking about it for some time, though. I think even as far back as when Ginny was pregnant with James.'

'Blimey.'

'Yeah. I remember Ginny telling me Harry had mentioned wanting to use Albus for a name. It's only logical to assume that he would have had Severus in mind then as well.'

Ron shook his head, and reached over to switch off the light next to the bed. 'I don't think I'll ever understand that. Snape's being friends with his mum just doesn't seem like a good enough reason.'

* * *

Harry slowly sat up and tripped out of the bed. 'You can _what_?' he asked incredulously, untangling his foot from the sheet.

Ginny looked away, blinking rapidly. 'I made a list,' she said in a low voice. 'Of all the reasons why I should go back. Quidditch was the one thing I had where I was on equal footing with you. And it was something I had with you where I didn't have to share you with anybody else.'

Harry paced warily next to the bed. 'Who are you sharing me with?' he blurted blankly.

'It doesn't matter.' Ginny looked down at her hands. They were visibly shaking. She clasped them together, to try and make them stop.

'Yes, it does!' Harry insisted.

'No, it doesn't.' Ginny threw the bedclothes back and stalked around the room. 'Quidditch was _only_ thing I've had since I left school where people don't automatically assume I've gotten my job because of you!' She whirled back to the bed and punched the pillow. 'Even effing Flanagan thought I got my job because I was your _wife_!'

'But that's not true,' Harry whispered, horrified.

'_I_ know that. _You_ know that, but when the rest of the bloody world sees 'Potter' after my name, that's what they think.' Ginny picked up the abused pillow and wrapped her arms around it. 'Quidditch was _mine_. I earned everything I had with it.

'And it was something I had with you that had nothing to do with Ron or Hermione,' she admitted.

Harry stared at Ginny as if he'd never seen her before. 'Ginny…'

Ginny shook her head. 'I know they're you're best friends.' She laughed bitterly. 'They're your bloody family, too. But the three of you are so tight nobody else has a chance.' She slumped on the edge of the bed. 'Not even me,' she said to the floor.

Harry stood motionless in the middle of the room, his breath coming in shallow pants, pulse pounding in his ears.

Ginny fiddled with the corner of the pillowcase. 'Do you remember, back in February, the night before Rose was born?'

Harry swallowed and nodded.

Ginny traced the seams between the tiles of the floor with a bare toe. 'Flanagan implied I couldn't handle things,' she confessed. 'And you weren't talking to me. But you could talk to Ron and Hermione,' Ginny accused. 'And you knew. You knew what it was doing to me. And you let it continue. For months,' she spat flatly.

Suddenly, Ginny stood up and crossed the floor to Harry's knapsack that lolled in the corner. She flipped open the flap and plunged a hand inside, searching for something. She emerged with a pair of Harry's jeans and yanked them on under her nightdress, stooping to turn the hems up several times. She dove back into the knapsack and surfaced with one of Harry's jumpers. She turned her back to Harry and pulled the nightdress over her head and wrenched the jumper on in its place. She found her shoes and shoved her feet into them. 'I need to go for a walk,' she muttered, jerking the door open and striding down the corridor.

Ginny burst into the deserted street outside St. Mungo's, chest heaving. That wasn't a conversation she had wanted to have. Not now. Not when she was reeling from a disjointed night's sleep. Not when she was already on edge from sitting in that room with Albus, compulsively counting the seconds between each breath he took, barely managing to tamp down the rising hysteria when the gap between his inhalations and exhalations grew longer than the one before. She cursed Harry for his stubborn insistence on pursuing a subject she thought they had dropped. There were so many things she had said that she had never meant to say.

She stood in the street, unsure of where to go. It was late and everything in Diagon Alley would be closed and she didn't feel up to trying to navigate Muggle London in her state. She didn't even have her wand.

Growing angrier and even more frustrated, Ginny kicked a wall. She felt terribly confined, even more so than she had felt all the previous days in the hospital.

* * *

Harry stared after Ginny's dwindling form, as she thrust the double doors at the end of the corridor open and disappeared from sight. He retreated back into the room, trying to convince himself it was just the hormones talking, and Ginny didn't really mean any of the things she'd said. _It's true, though_, a part of his brain that could still think analytically said smugly. _Ron and Hermione both told you it was a mistake to keep Ginny out of it, but no… You know so much better than they do, don't you?_

'Can I eff things up even more badly than I already have?' he wondered aloud, as his bare feet trod over the soft cotton of Ginny's nightdress, lying forlornly where she'd flung it earlier. Harry picked it up, and neatly folded it, setting it on the chair on top his clothes.

It was true he, Ron, and Hermione were often seen by others as a single entity at times, but it was more out of habit than actual fact. Ever since the end of the war, Harry found himself telling Ginny more than he would Ron or Hermione. While Ron and Hermione knew the abridged version of what he'd seen in Snape's memories, Ginny was the one to whom he had revealed everything. Even how he thought his mother had felt about Snape. Ginny was the only one who would know that his need to name his son for Snape was driven by less of a feeling of respect for the late Potions master, but more out of a sense of honor. Ginny was the only one who knew Snape had been forced into joining the Order out of a sense of guilt and remorse – that it hadn't been for Harry's sake that Snape put his life into danger countless times – it had been recompense for not being able to save Lily.

Ginny was the only one who knew about his nightmares that still kept him awake into the small hours of the morning. Even now. She was the only one who knew about the cupboard under the stairs and why he had learned to weep soundlessly.

Ginny was his anchor to reality. He had often thought if it hadn't been for her, he might very well have disappeared into himself after the war.

Harry raised a hand to his cheek. He remembered the afternoon after the war when she had slapped him. It was the first thing he had felt in nearly three months. Thinking about it made the skin stretched over his cheekbones tingle with the memory.

In any other circumstance, Harry knew Ginny was more than aware she occupied a space in his life that went far beyond where Ron or Hermione ever could go. But he had to admit the past six months had not been conducive to rational thought. For either of them.

Harry dug into his knapsack and pulled out a jumper, pulling his trainers on his feet. He traced Ginny's path out of the hospital, feeling slightly foolish as he did so, seeing as he had no idea where she would have gone. _She can't have Apparated,_ he thought, glancing around the darkened street. _Her wand's in her room at the Burrow._ He had seen it there earlier that day and meant to bring it to her, but James' cries of distress as Harry had tried to leave the Burrow had driven it out of his mind. 'Ginny?' he called tentatively, eyes scouring the surrounding area. There was a run-down bus stop at the end of the street. Ginny sat morosely inside the small structure, gazing at her feet. Harry went inside the three-sided stand and sat at the other end of the bench.

'Ron and Hermione were my first friends,' he told a ratty flyer, advertising a record shop, avoiding making eye contact with Ginny. 'And they are my family, and not just in this wistful sort of way like it was before I married you.' He looked sideways at Ginny. She still stared stonily at her feet. 'I don't know what to tell you, Gin. You know more about me than anyone else, including the two of them. You keep me sane,' he admitted. 'I didn't fall in love with you because you were Ron's sister. I fell in love with you because you're _you_,' he finished lamely.

Ginny remained silent.

'I didn't not tell you anything until now to deliberately cut you out,' he continued, gazing out at the empty street. 'Nobody knew anything. Not even Percy or Hermione. Kingsley's the only other person besides you who even knows where I've been. I don't have to tell you what that means.' Harry turned sideways, pulling his feet up onto the seat of the bench, watching Ginny's profile. 'I didn't want to worry you. When Ron first told me about the notes, we had just found out you were pregnant, and you were already in a right state, Gin, and I didn't want to pile anything else on.'

Ginny's head turned away from Harry slightly.

'It just got harder and harder to tell you. You were sick so much in the beginning, and I could tell how difficult it was for you to try and juggle being James' mum with the paper, and it just seemed like a good idea to not say anything. You already had enough on your plate.' Harry let his head fall against the side of booth. 'And then with Al coming early, I was barely holding myself together, and you weren't doing very well, either, and it just seemed like one more brick in the wall.

'I didn't want to burden you.'

Ginny still sat silently, unwilling to meet Harry's eyes. She thought if she did, the carefully constructed veneer of calm would collapse on itself. She swallowed hard and bit her lip harder, nearly trembling with the effort to not bolt from the bench.

'Flanagan's an arse. You've said it a million times, and you're right. And the one person in the world you're supposed to be able to count on kept insinuating you couldn't handle it. Just like he did.

'I shouldn't have done that,' he said gruffly, watching Ginny for some sort of reaction, barely able to breathe. One of her shoulders twitched in what Harry hoped was some sort of acknowledgement.

'I am sorry, Gin. I don't…' Harry's eyes dropped to the laces of his trainers. 'I don't expect you to forgive me for that. Not for a while.'

Ginny blinked and a hot tear slid down her face and landed on her tightly clenched hands. She felt another follow in its path, but didn't bother to wipe them away. She didn't want Harry to see her crying.

Harry sat for a long moment, waiting for Ginny to give him some kind of response. He was willing to take anything: shouting, attempted hexing, even a slap, just to know that she had heard him. Harry would have taken a slap like the one she had laid on him a couple of weeks before his eighteenth birthday in a heartbeat. It was better than this motionless, unspeaking Ginny sitting three feet away from him.

Ginny gripped the front edge of the bench with her hands, desperately willing Harry to leave, so she could lose control without the audience. She jumped when her wrist began to softly hum. Ginny knew she should go back inside, but she felt rooted to the spot. The humming steadily grew louder and she heard Harry put his feet on the ground and vacate his spot on the bench. She watched him go back inside the hospital and a few moments later the vibrations radiating from her wrist came to a halt.

Ginny bent forward, nearly choking on the sobs she had been holding back. It had taken all the restraint she had to not react to Harry. She shook, as if she were cold. Dimly, she realized she was, in fact, cold, but it wasn't from the weather. Ginny pulled her knees into her chest and under the jumper, wrapping her arms around them. Harry's admission he had been no better than Flanagan unnerved her greatly. She didn't want to be seen as the princess in an ivory tower, needing to be rescued, but it was an image that had dogged her since she was eleven.

_My knight in a dirty, filthy, bloody school uniform._ He had seemed almost perplexed that he had managed to save her, as if he wasn't sure _how_ he had done it.

Sighing, Ginny rubbed the sleeve of Harry's jumper over her face, wincing at the friction of the nubby knit over her stinging cheeks. She tried to breathe normally, but it just hitched in her chest, and she started crying all over again. Ginny buried her face in her knees again, and gave in to the anger, hurt, and fear threatening to overwhelm her. She was too exhausted to try and hold it back anymore.

* * *

Harry gave up trying to wake up Albus and set the bottle on the floor. He hadn't heard Ginny come back inside yet and a glance at his watch informed him he'd been inside for almost forty-five minutes. He leaned his head against the back of rocking chair, trying to decide whether or not to attempt to find her again. Deciding against it, Harry slowly got to his feet and put Albus back into the cot, giving Ewan a weary wave as he left and went across the hall. The room was troublingly empty.

Sighing, Harry bent and dragged the tangle of bedclothes trailing on the floor alongside the bed back into place and began to try and put some semblance of order to the bedding. He tugged the blanket into place and dropped into the chair. He felt a pain shoot up the side of his face and realized he had been grinding his teeth for the past hour. He hadn't done that in years. He folded his arms over his chest and stretched his feet out; adopting the same position in the chair he had done Monday morning.

He was starting to get worried. Ginny was alone and wandless in the street. While she was perfectly capable of dealing with anything that could cause trouble if she was armed, the fact that she was practically defenseless kept him wide awake.

* * *

Ginny pressed her cold fingertips to her eyes. They ached abominably. She blew out a slow, shaky breath, and stiffly uncurled herself from the bench. She stretched the knots from her back and shoulders and winced as her head pounded in time with her pulse. She felt as if she'd been pelted by a hundred Bludgers.

Over the past hour, something Harry had said had gradually sunk in. There were two people in the world who knew what he was doing with this assignment. And she was one of them. _No, you don't have to tell me what that means._ She held his life in her hands. He trusted her implicitly. And with that realization had come another. She hadn't afforded him the same courtesy.

She'd been suspicious and jealous. All the things she hated and swore she'd never do.

Everything he had said was true – it had been a draining pregnancy. If there hadn't been the emotional tension between the two of them, she had been ill. Or their jobs. Or just trying to keep up with their rambunctious son. And now trying to deal with Albus. It had all been terribly draining for both of them.

Ginny trudged back to the entrance of St. Mungo's and slipped down the concealed corridor that would lead her from the main entrance back down to the maternity wing. She laid a hand on one of the double doors, and pushed it wide enough for her to gain entrance to the corridor beyond. She went down to her room, and stood in the open doorway a moment studying Harry, sprawled in the chair. He wasn't asleep, but staring intently at the ceiling. 'Harry?' she said quietly.

He didn't turn his head or look at her. 'Where've you been?' he asked neutrally.

'Thinking over things.' Ginny tentatively inched into the room and perched on the edge of the bed.

'Go to bed, Gin. You need some sleep.'

'What about you?' Ginny pulled her hands into the sleeves of the jumper, letting the cuffs dangle past her fingertips.

'I can sleep later.'

Ginny looked down at her hands. 'I don't need saving,' she said into the yawning silence. 'I'm not some useless princess who can't handle things.' Harry gave her a questioning glance. 'I'm not eleven,' she stated. 'You can't keep seeing me that way when things go pear-shaped.'

'I know.'

'I can't forgive you for doing that,' she added. 'Not right now, anyway.'

Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling once more. 'I understand.'

'But I owe you an apology, too.' Ginny took in a deep breath, before plunging ahead. 'I've been acting like a spoiled child. I didn't trust you enough.'

Harry blinked. 'No,' he said hoarsely. 'I didn't trust you enough. If I did, I would never have treated you like that.' He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at Ginny, taking in her reddened and swollen eyes. She was holding herself carefully, as if her head would fall off if jarred too suddenly. 'Go to sleep, Gin,' he repeated. 'We can do this later,' he added, wondering how much later.

'Are you coming to bed?' she asked in a small voice.

Harry shook his head. 'This is fine. You need your rest.'

Ginny felt tears well up in her eyes and bit her lip. She found her nightdress neatly folded on the pillow and knew that Harry had put it there. She picked it up and with a furtive glance at her husband, she slipped into the bathroom to change, suddenly self-conscious of changing in front of him in a way she'd never had before. She pulled Harry's clothes off and tugged the nightdress over her head. Ginny gathered Harry's clothes into her arms and opened the bathroom door.

Harry was still in the same position he had been when she came into the room, but he had obviously dimmed the lights. Ginny laid the bundle of clothing on the far table and climbed into the bed. She curled into herself, gazing at Harry's profile. He was close enough for her to touch, but had an aura about him that screamed at Ginny to stay away. Ginny wound her fists into the sheet, nearly gnashing her teeth. He obviously wasn't going to say anything else. Harry was a good one for isolating himself when it was the worst thing in the world for him to do.

Neither of them slept much that night.


	18. Square One

A/N: -- Thanks to Steph, who helped me with the scene between Ginny and Arthur. She gets margarita sno-cones.

It gets a little dicey in the middle, so I left out a nice block of Ghiradelli chocolate. Enjoy.

* * *

Shanti gathered Albus' file, her clipboard and a monstrously large cup of coffee. One of her aunts was a doctor in York, and over the years, Shanti had picked up on a few Muggle medical ideas she had gradually integrated into her thought process. She took a sip of the hot coffee and briefly wondered if she could somehow introduce the caffeine directly to her bloodstream intravenously. Ewan had left a comment in his notes from last night that Harry and Ginny had been off with the overnight feedings. Both of them had left the hospital last night, Harry for roughly half an hour, and Ginny for quite a bit longer. Shanti frowned at the clipboard, wondering what had happened. They had seemed to come to some sort of understanding the other night. She'd seen other couples crack under the pressure and get into vicious rows over everything from the seemingly trivial to things pushed so far into the subconscious, it threatened to tear the couple apart.

She knocked softly on Ginny's door, and waited, hearing someone's soft footfalls on the other side. Harry cracked open the door, eyes bloodshot and puffy. 'Oh, it's you,' he said, not unkindly, opening the door wide enough to let her in. 'Thought it might be Molly with breakfast,' he added, peering hopefully down the corridor, gazing at Shanti's coffee with a wistful expression.

'Came to give you both an update on Albus,' Shanti said, waving her clipboard. She took the chair next to the bed, leaving Harry to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed next to Ginny. 'He's regaining some of his birth weight, which is good. He's able to take feedings with a bottle or nursing, which is excellent. The apnea's a bit worrisome, since he's had changes of color with a few episodes, so we might keep him a bit longer until that improves. And finally, he'll need to be able to maintain his temperature without the Warming charms for at least a day. And I'd like to give him several more days before we test that out.' She looked up expectantly at Ginny and Harry.

'When can we take him home?' Ginny asked forlornly.

'Not sure,' Shanti took a sip of her coffee. 'Could be this time next week, could be longer. It all depends on Albus. It's something of a process.'

'What about when we do take him home? What then?' Harry rubbed his eyes.

'Keep outings to zero for a while. If someone has a cold or the like, then they should probably not visit.'

'What about James?' Ginny's voice held an edge of dread to it. She felt Harry's cold hand wrap around her equally frigid one.

'Wash his hands often, and if he gets sick, take him to Molly and Arthur's for a few days.' Shanti leaned forward. 'Don't panic, Ginny. We're not going to let Albus go home until we're sure he can handle it.'

Ginny took a deep breath and nodded. Harry's fingers squeezed hers, reassuringly.

'Something else you both need to remember is that for the first two years or so, Albus will have a real age and a "corrected" age. The latter is what his age would be had he been born full-term. So, when he's say, twelve weeks old, he should be doing things that full-term six week olds will do. Don't get concerned that he seems to be lagging behind a bit. He's got a bit of catching up to do.'

'And that means…?' Harry felt his shoulders tense, afraid to hear the answer.

'Just that developmentally, for the first two years, he'll be about six weeks or so "behind". Most premature babies are indistinguishable from their full-term counterparts by the age of two.' Shanti squinted at Harry and Ginny's unconvinced expressions. 'In all likelihood, by the time he and Rose celebrate their second birthdays, nobody will be able to tell Albus was born early.

'He has a very good chance of growing up with no problems at all.' Shanti flipped a page of her clipboard. 'There's a Healer here who specializes in caring for premature infants, once we let them go home. Ewan's actually Anne's apprentice. They'll keep track of Albus' development. Anne will come meet you before we send Albus home and make sure you know what needs to be done to care for Albus at home, as well as set up an appointment for a follow-up visit. You can bring him here, or she can go to you, whichever you prefer.'

Harry could tell from the way Ginny's fingers convulsively tightened around his, having all this piled on top of last night was about send her back outside to the dilapidated bus stop again. 'Thanks, Shanti,' he quickly interjected, before Ginny could start shaking uncontrollably. There were two things Ginny didn't do if she could avoid it: one, let people make decisions for her; and two, cry in public. Having Shanti in the room made it public. 'If we have questions, we'll let you know.'

Shanti nodded and picked up the files and her coffee and slipped out of the room, leaving Harry and Ginny sitting in an uneasy truce.

* * *

Ginny watched Shanti leave the room, and started to pull her hand from Harry's. His grip tightened and he looked at her, unable to say anything. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, shaking his head, before he let go of her hand, and gathered the clothing she had worn last night from the table.

He stood in the shower, his hands braced on the wall, breathing heavily, forcibly shoving the chaotic swirls of his own emotions behind his painstakingly constructed mental walls. It was almost too much for him to bear, with everything seeming to crash around him. He leaned his forehead against the tile, between his outstretched hands.

He carefully inhaled slowly and just as slowly released the breath, in an attempt to stem the rising tide of emotions that refused to go quietly.

He failed, and the next exhaled breath caught and the tears mixed with the water cascading over his head.

Harry didn't worry about Ginny hearing him over the rush of water. He still wept without making a sound, a habit of more than two decades.

For the first time in his career as an Auror, Harry found himself not wanting to finish an assignment, if it meant leaving Ginny for an indefinite amount of time again.

It was a startlingly unpleasant sensation.

* * *

Ginny looked up as the door opened and Arthur's head came around the edge of the door. 'Dad? I thought Mum…?' Ginny gestured to the basket Arthur carried in one hand.

Arthur set the basket down on the table. 'Your mum didn't want to upset James by leaving,' he said nonchalantly, pulling out a vacuum flask. 'Tea, Gin?'

'Uh, sure, Dad,' Ginny dazedly replied. 'What do you mean by Mum not wanting to upset James?'

'He's just a bit clingy right now,' Arthur soothed. 'Don't worry about it.' Arthur pulled a covered bowl from the basket and released the sticking charm holding the lid on it. 'Your mum sent some porridge over. Some fruit, too.'

Ginny spooned porridge into an empty bowl and poured milk into it, before adding some sugar. She stirred a spoon around it a few times, not really feeling very hungry. The bathroom door opened, and Harry stood framed in the doorway, stopping short when he saw Arthur.

Arthur glanced between his daughter and son-in-law. Ginny dropped her spoon with a clatter and darted into the other room, muttering something about needing to check on the baby. 'Shite,' mumbled Harry. 'I can't keep doing this.' He took Ginny's place on the bed and began to eat her abandoned porridge, making a face as he did so. She always put too much sugar on it. 'We had something of a row last night,' he offered.

'So I gathered,' Arthur said dryly. 'I thought the two of you were all right?'

'We were.' Harry opened the vacuum flask containing the tea and took a gulp. 'Did you know she'd been offered a place on the team again?'

'No,' Arthur replied slowly. 'When?'

'Couple of weeks ago.'

Arthur didn't look surprised, but Harry had learned long ago that Arthur could show remarkable constraint when necessary. 'She isn't really going to consider it, is she?' he contemplated. 'It was hard enough when it was just the two of you. You don't really think she'd do it with two small children?'

'She might.' Harry screwed the lid back onto the flask and resumed his mechanical eating of the porridge. 'It's like she's got something to prove to everybody and that's the only way she can do it.' He looked up at Arthur. 'And it went downhill from there.' Harry meditatively used his spoon to sculpt the thick porridge to the sides of the bowl. 'Can I ask you something, Arthur?'

'Yes.' Arthur hooked a foot around the chair, and pulled it closer, sitting down.

'Ron, Hermione, and me… Do we block out Ginny? Truthfully?'

Arthur blinked. It hadn't been the question he was expecting. 'The three of you have always been close,' he began.

'But do we exclude Ginny?' Harry interrupted bluntly.

Arthur leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. 'For a long time, yes. You and Ron especially when you were younger. But that's normal. Ginny was the pesky little sister, tagging along behind you. Hermione, not so much. But they both had more in common, being girls.

'You seemed to see Ginny as just another star-struck girl, when the last thing you wanted was the attention. But she grew up hearing stories about you and it was just a bit of a shock for her to wake up one morning and see the object of her daydreams sitting at the kitchen table eating sausages.

'One day, you seemed to realize Ginny had stopped waiting for you to notice her as something other than Ron's baby sister.' Arthur's smile softened his words.

'She wasn't really part of your group until, oh, maybe your sixth year. I think after the incident at the Ministry, you had an idea of how much Ginny had matured. But you've always had this fatalistic streak, ever since I've known you. And you haven't always given Ginny much of a choice in deciding how much she can handle being with you.

'You have this barmy idea even now that everyone around you is a target for every crackpot witch or wizard in Britain.

'But do you exclude her now? Recently, yes. But not usually.' Arthur reached across the table and gave Harry a light cuff on the back of the head. 'You tend to gravitate toward Ron and Hermione when the family's together more than anyone else, so I can see why she might think so, but you're always aware of where Gin is. Sort of like a sixth sense.'

Harry wordlessly scraped the last bit of porridge from the bowl. He shouldn't have been surprised by the answer. Arthur, for all his madness about Muggle technology that bordered on obsession, was an astute observer of human behavior. _He would have had to be, with all those different personalities in the house,_ Harry mused. Arthur had given him a lot to think about.

* * *

Ginny edged into the room, eyeing her father and husband sitting in something resembling companionable silence. Harry looked up at her, gave her a wry one-shouldered shrug, and rose from the bed, going to take his turn by the cot. Ginny remained hesitantly by the door. 'Come and eat, Ginny, before it gets cold and your mother finds out,' Arthur admonished mildly. 'She'll snatch what hair I have left. And I'm rather attached to it, you know.' Arthur pulled a clean bowl from the basket and dished the remaining porridge into it.

Ginny sat on the edge of the bed, and took the clean spoon Arthur proffered, adding milk and sugar to the bowl, drawing out the process as long as she could. She looked up at Arthur, sitting patiently in the chair across from her. 'Playing confessor today?' she asked, a slight edge of sarcasm coloring her voice.

'If you want.' Arthur shrugged and reached into the basket for an apple. 'What was the fight about?'

'Harry didn't tell you?'

'No.' Arthur shook his head and took a bite of the apple.

Ginny looked down in the bowl, and forced herself to take a bite of the porridge. 'Everything,' she said succinctly. 'Things I would have never said. I don't even know where they came from.'

'Had to come from somewhere, Gin.'

Ginny stirred her porridge, carving tiny channels for the milk to flow from one side of the bowl to the other. 'I just don't want to be…' She paused taking a deep breath. 'When is he going to see me as an adult?'

Arthur moved to sit next to Ginny, wrapping his arms around her. 'Ginny, I wish I could wave my wand and make you feel better, but I can't.' He released Ginny and sat back a little. 'What do you want from him, Gin?'

'What?'

'You're all he has, Gin. You and the boys. So he's driven by this need to make sure you will never have to face the same kinds of decisions his parents had to make. And that makes him more than a bit overprotective, and Gin, I know you – you chafe under something like that. You are so much your mother's child. Just as stubborn and twice as tenacious as she is.'

'But I can take care of myself!' Ginny insisted mulishly, stabbing the spoon into the bowl.

'He knows that.' Arthur picked up his apple and munched in silence for a moment. 'Your mother… She wanted to join the Order the first time. I told her absolutely not.' He looked at Ginny from the corner of his eye. 'We were like the two of you, in a way. Young, two small children. And there was no way I was ever going to let Molly put herself in harm's way. Not if I could help it. We had the same argument, and if I recall correctly, your mum felt that I just saw her as a wife and mother, and not a fully trained witch in her own right.'

Arthur gazed at the apple in his hand. 'Even after we found out she was pregnant with Percy, she still stubbornly argued she could be an asset to the Order. And she would have been, too. But I don't have to tell you that.'

'No.' Ginny was starting to wonder where her father was going with his reminiscences.

Arthur cleared his throat. 'I came home one day, to find a letter sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. She had left and taken Bill and Charlie with her to her mother's. It was the worst two weeks of my life.'

Ginny's jaw dropped open. 'Mum… Mum _left_ you?' she asked weakly.

Arthur nodded. 'I was so distracted over it that I almost got caught by the Death Eaters I was watching.' He ran a hand over his balding head. 'Bill remembers it; he was almost six. Charlie wasn't yet four, so I don't think he remembers much of it. But for a long time, after your mum came back, every time they left to go on an errand, Bill would ask if they were going to Grandmum Prewett's again.'

Arthur pressed a kiss on Ginny's forehead. 'Ginny, why would you want to go back playing? You weren't happy the last year or so. Any fool with eyes could see it. I was relieved when you retired.'

Ginny looked down, unable to meet her father's eyes, in light of his revelations. 'I'm not going to leave him, Dad.'

'I didn't think you were.'

'But it's one of the only ways I can think of where I can be me, without everyone speculating that I got my place at the paper because of him.' Ginny made a few peaks and valleys with the spoon in the porridge. 'I want… I want to leave that behind,' she admitted.

'But do you really want to go back to the Harpies?' Arthur pressed gently.

'No,' Ginny said with certainty.

'I can't tell you what to do, Gin. But I do think you need to think about a few things. And if you hang on to this idea that you have to get out from Harry's shadow in whatever way you can, you're going to put a lot more stress on Harry. Whatever Harry's doing, it's delicate enough for him to keep it quite a secret from all of us. And if Harry's anything like I was, he's going to have his mind on you and the boys at the wrong time. When you and Harry announced you were getting married, I thought you were far too young to be married. But I _know_ you're much too young to be a widow. And Harry has to know he doesn't need to worry about you.'

Arthur pulled Ginny close, in a much gentler embrace the she would have gotten from Molly, but no less loving for it. It completely undid Ginny. She wept into Arthur's ratty Saturday cardigan, wishing for a moment she was a small girl again, and Arthur would be able to cheer her up with a trip to the Muggle ice-cream shop in the village. This wasn't something a chocolate ice cream cone was going to fix.

'Ginny, sweetheart, you have some very good things in your life. Harry loves you more than his own life. In spite of what you think, or what you've been led to believe, you're a very well-respected reporter. That piece you did for _Quidditch Quarterly_ back in March was very well done. I wanted to go buy an extra copy, but it was sold out. And nobody I know read that article because of your name. They read it because it you wrote a bloody good argument about female players.' Arthur pulled out a worn handkerchief and blotted Ginny's cheeks gently. 'You have two beautiful sons, who will make you proud, no matter what they do, one day.

'Think about that for me, will you? Because he's leaving again tomorrow and I don't want to see either of you hurting like this, Gin.'

Ginny snuffled into the handkerchief and sighed. 'Was it hard for Mum to forgive you?'

'Yeah. But she never forgot it. And neither did I. Forgiveness is a hard game, Ginny. It means letting go of something you've been clutching for ages like a security blanket.' Arthur smoothed the hair from Ginny's face. 'I learned that one with Percy. It was the hardest thing I've ever done to forgive him.'

'I said a lot of awful things last night, Dad,' Ginny said in a low voice.

'People do say things when they're emotional that they'd never say otherwise,' Arthur agreed. 'People make mistakes. You and Harry are both human, so while you're trying to figure out how to forgive him, give yourself a break. It's been a rough couple of months for you, too.' He gave Ginny a small squeeze, before clearing the congealed porridge in Ginny's bowl. 'There are a couple bananas in the basket. Promise me you'll eat them?'

Ginny nodded wearily and watched as Arthur placed a few oranges, apples, and bananas on the table. 'Make sure Harry eats some of that, too. Can't have him coming down with scurvy, now, can we?' Arthur leaned over and gave Ginny another hug and kissed her cheek.

Ginny wound her arms around Arthur's neck. 'Thanks, Dad,' she whispered.

'When you come home, we'll go for a walk down to the village for some ice-cream. Like old times, eh?'

'That would be great, Dad.' Ginny gave him a wan smile.

Arthur left and Ginny sagged against the pillows. As much as she hated to admit she was wrong, Arthur had been right. She had been so focused on what she thought was going wrong, she had lost sight of what was right in her life.

* * *

Ginny watched Harry rove about the room, gathering his things and packing them away in his knapsack. If at all possible, this time hurt worse than when he'd left last month. He had gone to the Burrow earlier to spend the afternoon with James and put him to bed. Ginny missed James' bedtime routine, with his infectious mischievous grin as he darted from the bathroom without a stitch on and ran down the corridor to his bedroom giggling. She missed the sleepy weight of him on her lap as he drowsed while she read a story to him.

Albus had wrapped his tiny fingers around her smallest finger earlier that day. The strength of his grip surprised her. For the first time in a week, she allowed herself to feel hope that he would be all right.

Arthur's words about letting things go as part of forgiveness echoed through her head. She had held the perception of Harry, Ron, and Hermione excluding her from their tightly-knit circle for so long, that the idea of not having it anymore, made her feel as if she would lose a part of herself. It wasn't unwelcome, but it frightened her a little, wondering what would take its place.

She and Harry had danced around each other all day. Several times, each of them attempted to speak, but each time, the words failed to come out. She caught him watching her – while she fed Albus, or took her turn with him in the kangaroo hold. She had done plenty of surreptitious scrutiny of her own throughout the day, too: during Harry's time with the baby, and when Ron had brought them dinner, and he and Harry had gone into the hallway to give each other those peculiarly male back-pounding hugs.

Ginny was lying in the bed, the one of Harry's Muggle novels in her lap. She made a small moue at the book's pages. Harry, it seemed, had a penchant for novels about women in difficult circumstances, if his collection of novels by this Austen woman was any indication. She placed a scrap of parchment inside to mark her place, and laid the book aside. 'Are you coming to bed?' she asked, her voice rusty.

Harry glanced up, in the act of folding a jumper. He nodded and tucked the jumper into his open knapsack. 'In a minute,' he replied.

He waited until Ginny fell asleep, then dug into a pocket of the knapsack, pulling out a Self-Inking Quill and a piece of parchment. He began to write, praying the sibilant scratching of the quill wouldn't wake Ginny. The letter finished, he folded and sealed it, and left it inside Ginny's book, remembering all the letters he had written to Ginny during the war and promptly burned, lest they fall into the wrong hands.

Harry slowly undressed, draping his clothes over the chair.

Tomorrow evening, he would take a Portkey back to Inverness. It would come far too soon for his taste. He had considered leaving while Ginny was asleep, just to avoid having to tell her good-bye, but that was the coward's way out. And while Harry believed he was a lot of things, a coward wasn't one of them.

He lifted the edge of the bedclothes and carefully slid into the bed, wishing they were in the hammock at the Burrow. It hadn't been hard to talk to Ginny ensconced in its embrace. Here, surrounded by the constant worry and fear, it was nearly impossible.

Harry pulled his glasses off and set them on the table. He leaned over Ginny's slumbering body and oh-so-gently kissed her.


	19. More Things in Heaven and Earth

'When are you leaving?'

'When it gets dark, I suppose.'

'Why?'

'I'd rather not have anyone see me land on my arse in the back garden.'

'Don't you have wards and charms around it?'

'Yes, but I'd rather not take any chances.'

'Isn't Kingsley expecting you earlier?'

'It's fine. I saved the damn world, so the least they can do is let me spend a few more hours with you and Albus.'

'How much longer…?'

'I wish I knew.'

'I'll show James your photograph every Sunday. So he doesn't forget you.'

'Oh, ha-ha.'

'Did you get everything packed?'

'I think so. If I forgot anything, I suppose that's just too bad, then.'

'I suppose. Shanti left something for us.'

'It's Albus…'

'His first photograph. You take it.'

'When did she do this?'

'A few days ago. She gave it to me while you were eating breakfast yesterday.'

'Thank you.'

'I want to go home.'

'Me, too. Here, I brought this for you. I forgot about it earlier.'

'Think I'm going to need my wand here?'

'Couldn't hurt. Oh, and here… Brought these, too.'

'I need my wedding rings? Here?'

'Couldn't hurt.'

'Thanks. I had to stop wearing them three weeks ago. Fingers were too swollen to put them on. Made me feel naked. What's that? CXVI?'

'We've been married for almost six years and you've never looked inside your wedding ring?'

'Have you?'

'Uh…'

'That's what I thought. What does that mean? CXVI?'

'Sonnet One-Hundred Sixteen. You know… "Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments…" Ever heard of it?'

'No. Go on.'

'Do I have to?'

'Yes. Consider it an early anniversary gift.'

'Fine… "Let me not to the marriage of true minds/Admit impediments; love is not love/Which alters when it alteration finds/Or bends with the remover to remove/O, no, it is an ever-fixèd mark/That looks on tempests and is never shaken;/It is the star to every wand'ring bark/Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken./Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks/Within his bending sickle's compass come;/Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks/But bears it out even to the edge of doom./If this be error and upon me proved/I never writ, nor no man ever loved." Happy?'

'Very.'

'I mean it, too.'

'I know you do.'

'I nicked a bottle of your shampoo before I left last time.'

'I thought I was missing the bottle I took to Mum and Dad's. I had to go back to the house and get another one.'

'If it makes you feel better, it makes me smell like a girl.'

'I pinched a few bars of your soap, when I went back to the house, so we're even.'

'I guess so.'

'Are you sure you don't want to go to lunch with the family?'

'I'm sure. I'd rather be here.'

'Feels a little silly, doesn't it?'

'What?'

'With the sheet pulled over our heads like this.'

'Maybe a bit. Feels like the hammock.'

'Under the Invisibility Cloak, maybe, when we didn't want Mum to find us.'

'That was a little pathetic. Both of us of age, and we were hiding from your mum.'

'Please. She would have made us tidy something.'

'True.'

A soft hum interrupted their conversation. Ginny sighed and pulled the sheet down. 'Back to reality,' she quipped.

'Ginny…'

'I'll be back in a bit.' Ginny slid out of the bed and padded out of the dimly lit room.

Harry rolled over onto his back, and stacked his hands under his head. Ginny had awakened when he got into bed. They had stared at each other for a few minutes, before Harry pulled the sheet over them. It shrouded them in semi-darkness. If Harry closed his eyes, he might be able to picture them in the hammock under a leafy elm tree.

Sighing, he turned his wrist and squinted at his watch. It was nearly one in the morning. Both of them would have to go to sleep at some point. His eyes closed and he dozed lightly, waiting for Ginny to come back to bed. It was still taking a good while to get Albus to eat any sort of significant amount in less than an hour. Shanti assured them repeatedly it was normal for a premature baby.

His eyes flew open when the door opened, and the blurred figure of Ginny approached the bed. 'All this magic and not a bloody thing they can do about my eyesight,' he sighed, holding the bedding back for Ginny.

She settled into the bed, pulling the sheet over them again, casting them into cool green shadows once more. 'Did you know Mum left Dad?' she asked without preamble.

'No.' Harry was startled. Molly and Arthur were his role-models for marriage.

'When Bill was five.' Ginny was silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of Harry's slow breathing. She swallowed. 'I won't ever leave you,' she promised.

'That's good to hear.'

'But just because I love you, it doesn't mean I like everything you do.'

'I'd think you were Imperiused otherwise,' Harry said dryly. 'There's plenty you do I'm not terribly fond of.' He twirled a lock of Ginny's hair around his index finger out of habit. 'But nothing I'd ever pack it in over.'

'That's good.'

'Go to sleep, Gin. It's going to be a long day tomorrow.'

* * *

Arthur and Jane Granger gathered up all the children, save for Rose, and corralled them into the back garden after lunch with Teddy and Victoire's help, promising them a trip down to the village for ice cream. Arthur had had a taste for ice cream since his talk with Ginny the day before. Taking charge of the children afforded him a perfect opportunity.

Molly sat at the head of the table with a piece of parchment in front of her. With Harry leaving that evening, they would need to take his place helping Ginny with the overnight feedings for the time being. She looked around the table at her sons and the women she considered her daughters, sitting amidst the remains of lunch. She met Andromeda's dark, sober eyes. 'Right, then,' Molly said briskly. 'Shall we divvy up each night into two shifts, or just do the whole night?'

'Whole night's less disruptive overall, I would think,' Bronwyn offered.

'Does anyone have a problem with that?' Molly glanced around the table. A few heads shook in the negative. 'Good.'

'I'll take Friday,' Andromeda volunteered. 'If someone will watch Teddy Friday night and Saturday.'

'We can mind Teddy,' Hermione said.

Molly nodded and wrote Andromeda's name in the block under "Friday".

'I'll take tonight,' Charlie spoke into the pause. 'I don't have a shift until Tuesday at the reservation.'

'Monday,' Katie said. 'I'll do Monday.'

'I will sit wiz Ginny Tuesday,' Fleur said, with a glance at Bill. 'Do not worry,' she said in an undertone. 'I will be all right.' Bill merely shrugged and frowned with slight displeasure.

'I'll take Saturday, Mum,' George piped up, giving Bill and Fleur a questioning look. 'Can't promise I'll be the life of the party next Sunday, though,' he added wryly.

'Wednesday.' Percy looked up from his cup of tea.

'Guess that just leaves Thursday.' Bill looked at Ron. 'I'll flip you for it,' he said, digging into his pocket for a Knut.'

'Don't bother. I'm used to getting up with Rosie. I'll do it.' Ron caught George's attention. 'We'll have to get David or Sasha to come down from Hogsmeade for Friday to cover for me.'

Molly scribbled Ron's name in the last block. 'That'll get us through next week, at least.'

Charlie got to his feet, and stretched. 'I think I'll go upstairs and have a kip, if I'm to be up tonight. I'll just go to St. Mungo's from here,' he told Bronwyn.

'No use in going back to Holyhead,' she agreed. 'I'll take Isabella to Mum's in the morning, so you can get some sleep.'

Penny pulled the chart closer to study it. 'What about meals? You've been doing those by yourself, Molly. We can help out with that, too.'

'Good idea,' Fleur murmured.

'I can do lunch on the weekdays,' Ron said. 'Just take over some of what we're having at the shop.'

'I will take dinner.' Fleur frowned a bit at the chart. 'Zursday, Friday, and Saturday, I zink.'

'I'll drop some dinner off on our way home later,' Katie said. 'Can you manage the boys' bath?' she asked George.

'Piece of cake.' George grinned at her. 'I'll even clean the water off the ceiling.'

'Thanks ever so,' she muttered, rolling her eyes.

'Not sure when Harry's leaving, so take enough for them both,' Molly suggested.

'We can do Tuesday and Wednesday,' Bronwyn said. 'The infirmary's got a Floo connection to St. Mungo's.'

'I'll do tomorrow, then,' Penny said, feeling slightly guilty that everyone else had volunteered for so much more than she and Percy.

Molly looked down at the chart. 'You don't have to do this,' she said softly to Andromeda.

Andromeda tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shaking her head. 'It's the least I can do after all those two have done for me. I just hope Ginny accepts our help.'

Molly snorted. To describe Ginny as stubborn was quite an understatement.

* * *

Harry bent over the cot, his hand curved around Albus' head. 'Next time I see you, try to make it at home. In your own cot,' he whispered. He brushed his lips over the downy curve of they boy's head and held his wrist out to Shanti. She tapped the bracelet, but to his surprise, it didn't disappear, but changed colors.

'The alarm's off,' she informed him. 'But this will get you back through the hidden entrance if you come back before he goes home.'

'Thanks.' Harry left the room and met Ginny in the hallway. She handed him his knapsack and walked with him to the double doors.

'How are you getting back?' she asked.

'Ginny…' he warned.

Ginny sighed in resignation. 'Right. Can't tell me.'

'Walk with me out front?' he asked.

'I was planning on it.'

They slipped out of the hidden entrance and out to the darkening street. Harry cupped Ginny's face in his hand. 'Kingsley will know where to find me if something happens,' he reminded her. He kissed her gently.

'Be careful,' Ginny whispered.

'I will.' Harry stepped away from Ginny and lifted her hand to his lips. He brushed a kiss on the palm, before releasing her hand, and turning.

He was gone again.

* * *

Harry Apparated in the atrium of the Ministry. He glanced at his watch and crossed to the fountain in the middle. It had been one of the first things he helped restore after the war, but without the insipid statues. This one was almost stark in its austerity, with the names of the dead and missing inscribed on the bottom of the pool. All coins thrown into its water still went to St. Mungo's. Harry searched a side pocket of his knapsack, and found a money bag he had placed there last month. He opened it and upended it over the pool. He didn't want to go up to his office to wait for the end of the interminable minutes to his departure, prearranged with Shacklebolt last week.

Harry dropped to the rim of the fountain, his knapsack sagging against his ankle. He pulled his glasses off and let them dangle from the fingers of one hand while he rubbed his gritty eyes with the other. He was exhausted – physically, emotionally, and mentally.

'You look like you could use some coffee,' a voice chimed above him.

Harry shoved his glasses back on his nose, and looked up. 'Yeah, I could.' It was the Obliviator that had been on the lift the morning he left.

'We ought to stop meeting like this. People will talk,' she said deprecatingly.

'Wouldn't be the first time I've been an object of gossip.' Harry looked at the woman thoughtfully. 'I'm sorry; I'm rubbish at names…'

'Shannon,' she muttered. 'After some singer my mum liked.'

Harry let out a short chuckle. 'I've heard worse.' He rolled his head, sighing in relief as his neck popped several times. 'Where would I find coffee in the Ministry at this hour?'

'You've never been in the Obliviators' office, have you?' Shannon grinned. 'It's like a common room at school. One of the Gryffindors swears the Gryffindor common room puts it to shame, though.' Shannon headed for the lifts. 'Come on. We've usually got a pot of coffee on or something.' She punched the button for Level Three. 'I'll have to warn you, though. It's rather, um, strong. The boys upstairs like to chew their coffee at four in the morning.'

They rode in silence until the lift doors opened. Harry could smell the scent of coffee wafting down the corridor. It nearly slapped him in the face. 'I've only got a few minutes,' he warned.

'No worries. You only need a few sips of this stuff if Cassie's been at the coffee. She never sleeps. And you'll find out why,' Shannon smirked. She waved Harry to a sagging sofa and picked up a cup, pouring some of the strong, black coffee into it. 'Milk?'

Harry eyed the brew in the cup. 'I think I'd better.'

Shannon handed Harry the cup. 'If you don't mind me saying, Mr. Potter, you look like hell.'

'It's Harry. And it's been a somewhat trying week.' He took a cautious sip of his coffee, grimacing at the taste. 'That's bracing,' he muttered. Shannon's face wore an expression of inquiry. 'New baby,' he explained, reaching into his shirt pocket for the photograph Ginny had given him last night.

'Awfully small, poor kid.'

Harry tenderly replaced the photograph inside his pocket. 'He was early.'

'Rather something of a strain, isn't it?'

'You could say that,' Harry demurred. He checked his watch and set the cup down. 'I've got to go,' he said. 'Thanks for the coffee, Shannon. Next time there's an incident where the Aurors need some help from you lot, bring some of that in a vacuum flash, eh? Keep everyone up for days.'

Harry went to the lift and went to Level Two. He strode down the corridor, and tapped the doorknob with his wand. The door clicked and swung open a bit. Harry slipped inside, and reset the lock. He set the knapsack on his desk, and rummaged inside for the battered trainer Arthur had unearthed from a wardrobe in Ron's old room for him yesterday. Harry tapped it with his wand, breathing, '_Portus_.' It glowed brightly blue, then faded. He closed the flap of the knapsack and fastened it. He picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder, as he grabbed the trainer. His stomach lurched at the familiar jerking sensation behind his navel.

* * *

Harry landed in a heap in the back garden of the house in Inverness. _I'm never going to learn how to travel by Portkey_, he mused. Shacklebolt could land standing on one foot. He picked up his knapsack and trudged to the back door. He could see Shacklebolt's outline through the window.

Harry stopped short at the sight that greeted him. Four of the trainees were clustered around the table, wearing remorseful expressions. 'What happened?' he asked, wearily, wanting to skip the debriefing, take an unbearably hot shower and sleep through the night.

'We had her,' Brianna admitted.

'Then we lost her,' Andre grumbled.

'What the bloody hell happened?' Harry nearly shouted.

'I… I'm… I'm not s-s-s-sure,' stuttered Kathleen, her normally calm demeanor shattered. 'She was right _there_. I was about to Stun her, and then…' She shook her head. 'She was gone,' she whispered, shamefaced.

'It wasn't her fault,' Iain defended. 'It happened outside the Muggle house, too. She was there, then… Not. I don't know how to explain it. It wasn't Apparition or Disillusionment.'

'We did try to look for her,' added Brianna. 'Both times.'

Andre traced the grain of the tabletop. 'Animagi can't change their form, can they?'

'Not generally,' Shacklebolt answered from his position by the window. 'But there are more things in heaven and earth...'

Harry sank into an empty chair. 'Tell me everything,' he demanded.

* * *

Charlie pulled his wand from his pocket and gave the straight-backed chair a contemptuous glare. He flicked his wand at it, and the chair stretched into something resembling an overstuffed, oversized armchair. 'That's better,' he said quietly. He dropped his old schoolbag into the seat of the chair, and went back into the hallway. The door to the baby's room was open, and Ginny sat in the rocking chair, nursing Albus.

Charlie blinked, and his fingers curled, as if around a pencil. He had initially left the room to give Ginny some privacy, and he hadn't wanted to view that much of his baby sister on display. _Not that she's showing much._

Charlie's hand began to impulsively move through the air, lightly sketching on paper that wasn't there. He turned on his heel and went to his bag, pulling out a pencil and his sketchbook. Charlie began to sketch the curves of the baby's head, cradled against Ginny's shoulder. It was full of soft flowing lines. When he finished it, Charlie scrawled a careless 'CW' in the lower right corner. He ripped it out of the book, and left it on the table next to the book it appeared Ginny was reading. He checked the time, and sank back into the embrace of the squashy chair. He reckoned he had a few more hours left before it was time to take his turn at the vigil next to the cot.

Charlie looked over at the sketch sitting in a pool of dim light. He wondered, not for the first time in Ginny's lifetime, how she could handle everything her life had thrown in her lap.

Because if it had been him, Charlie wasn't sure he would have been able to deal with all as well as she had. He would have been reduced to a quivering heap in the corner, experience with Horntails notwithstanding.

'Charlie?' Ginny stood in the doorway.

'Yeah, Gin?'

'Thanks. For coming to help out.'

Charlie let the corner of his mouth quirk up in a half-grin. He shrugged and rubbed at a smear of graphite on the side of his hand. 'Not a problem, Gin.'

Ginny climbed into the bed with a slight pang. As narrow as it was, it felt as vast as their bed in Godric's Hollow without Harry. She picked up the book on the table, and the letter Harry had placed inside its pages slid into her lap.

_24 June 2006_

_Dear Ginny…_

As Ginny's eyes traveled down the angular scrawl that was the hallmark of Harry's penmanship, her eyes filled with tears. She blinked several times, and one fell down her cheek to land with a soft _plop_ on the parchment, blurring the ink.

* * *

A/N: Both letters Harry's written to Ginny in this story will find their way into 'Letters'.

The sonnet quoted is Shakespeare's CXVI (116). Bonus points if you can find the other Shakespeare reference... :)


	20. Fight or Flight

A/N: Thanks to ngayonatkailanman for whispering a few ideas into my ears. :)

* * *

_Harry sank into an empty chair. 'Tell me everything,' he demanded._

* * *

'I don't know what happened,' Kathleen said. 'And yes, I know what her Animagus form is, but it was getting dark and it was raining…' Kathleen trailed off glumly.

'It's okay, Kathleen,' Harry told her. 'Don't beat yourself up. More experienced Aurors than you have been given the slip with much more than you've had to go on.'

'Same thing at the house,' Iain interjected. 'She Apparated into the front garden. Muggles didn't even notice. By the time I got to the gate, she was gone.'

'Damn,' Harry muttered with quiet vehemence, rubbing his face, tiredly. 'We'll have to stay on our toes, then. Be faster than she is.'

'Good luck with that,' muttered Andre. 'She's pretty damn fast once she transforms.'

'We're going to double up on shifts,' Harry pronounced. 'Two of us at each location for twelve hours.' A few of the trainees' eyebrows rose in silent disbelief. 'I'm sorry to do this to you, but we're going to get her. She's spent too much time mucking about with people's lives.' He looked around the table at the trainees' faces. They held a faint whisper of tenacity under the abject dejection. 'It's all right,' Harry repeated. 'First shift starts at six, so I suggest you lot get to bed and get some sleep. You'll need it.

'Bree and Iain, you're going to Skye tomorrow, second shift. I'll take the first one. Kathleen, Andre, you'll have the first shift for the house. Kevin and Moira will take the second one. Make sure you tell Kevin when you relieve him in the morning, and I'll take care of Moira.'

Harry watched with seeming impassivity as the trainees filed out of the kitchen. He looked at Shacklebolt. 'Send the other three trainees up tomorrow. I want them here by five in the morning,' he said calmly.

'Are you sure you want the newbies?'

'Absolutely. They've been on this from the beginning, and haven't learned any bloody preconceived notions of how it's supposed to go.'

'But five in the morning?'

'Yes.'

'Harry, I'm not trying to tell you how to run your investigation, but isn't that a bit _early_?' Shacklebolt leaned against the counter.

Harry's eyes glittered dangerously. 'I don't give a royal flying ffff-' he snarled. He stopped, catching himself, breathing heavily through his nose and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. 'I don't care how early it is. I want them here before I go out so I can get them caught up.'

Shacklebolt's brows creased in worry. 'All right. I'll get on it as soon as I get to London.'

'Brilliant,' Harry muttered. He picked up his knapsack and threw it into the scullery harder than he intended. He hadn't dared to hope they found her while he was gone, but to find out she had been in their grasp, then slipped through their fingers was entirely too frustrating. To add it to everything else – Ginny, James, Albus – it was almost more than he could stand.

'I can't believe it,' he growled. 'Merlin's sagging bollocks, I can't believe they let her get away,' he ground out.

'Harry, they did everything right.' Shacklebolt said softly.

'I know. I trained them,' Harry replied shortly.

'How's Ginny?'

'Fine.' Harry glared at the tabletop.

'And the baby?' Shacklebolt asked tentatively.

'So far, so good. If anything happens, Ginny's to contact you directly.'

'That's fine.'

Harry raised his booted feet and plopped them into a vacant chair. 'How did you manage to look for Sirius as long as you did? What was it? Two years?'

Shacklebolt chuckled. 'For starters, I wasn't married with a toddler and a newborn. The second year on Sirius' trail doesn't count. Dumbledore sent me a rather discreet owl inviting me to come up to the school the summer after the incident with the Dementors. He told me everything. I didn't look very hard the second or third years, to be honest. I even fed the Ministry false information about Sirius' whereabouts.'

Harry's mouth dropped open. 'You don't think she… She has someone on the inside, do you?'

'I'm not sure. I don't think so, though. She has far more enemies than friends there these days.' Shacklebolt reached down and squeezed Harry's shoulder. 'Don't be too hard on them, lad. They've been beating themselves up for three days.'

'I know. I would have done the same thing, if I was one of them. I did, too.'

'Take your own advice, Harry. Get some sleep. You don't look like you've had much lately. I'll have the newbies here by five.'

'Thanks.' Harry wearily pushed himself to his feet. 'I'll walk you out.'

He followed Shacklebolt to the back garden, where a discarded, misshapen football rested. 'I'll check in next week,' he told Harry, stooping to pick up the football. Harry watched as Shacklebolt vanished, then turned back into the house.

He closed the scullery door, and shoved the knapsack off the bed onto the floor. Harry pulled the photograph of Albus out of his pocket and picked up the framed photograph of Ginny and James. He pulled the back off, and slid the small photograph of Albus between the other one and the glass. Harry pushed the backing into place and set it in its place on the windowsill. He slumped forward, his elbows resting on his knees, watching as the tiny fist opened slightly and closed. He bent to untie the laces of his boots and pulled them off, swinging his feet onto the bed. He reached over to the windowsill, picked up the photograph, and let his fingers curl around the frame. 'G'night, Gin,' he mumbled.

* * *

Charlie felt the vibrations from his right wrist hum up his arm and jumped, startled, dropping his book to the floor with a sharp _thud_. He stared down at the dark green bracelet around his wrist, then looked over at the bed, where Ginny slept, curled around a spare pillow. She hadn't moved, so Charlie sighed in silent relief that he hadn't woken her up. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. The vibrations grew stronger and Charlie shot out of the cozy armchair and darted for the door. As soon as he crossed the threshold, his wrist stopped buzzing. He slowed down and peered into the dimly lit room, where Albus lay in a small cot.

Bronwyn had warned him it might be a shock. Isabella hadn't necessarily been a large baby, but she made Albus look like a doll. He wasn't prepared emotionally for the small, frail-looking body, wrapped tightly in a blanket. He looked down at his broad, blunt-fingered hands. If he held them out flat, the palms nearly touching, he could just about hold the baby in his hands. Isabella had been all dimpled arms and legs, soft with baby pudginess. What Charlie could see of Albus was thin, delicate skin. He thought he might tear it like wet paper if he handled the baby too roughly. Charlie looked down at his hands again. The palms and fingers were rough and calloused from working with the dragons and hatchlings.

He swallowed past his apprehension and accepted the warmed bottle from Ewan, before sitting gingerly in the rocking chair. Charlie watched as the burly intern scooped up the baby and gently laid him into Charlie arms. 'You'll have to watch him tell you he's hungry,' Ewan informed Charlie. 'He doesn't cry yet to let you know he's hungry, but he'll start rooting or sticking his tongue out.'

Charlie nodded and gazed down at his newest nephew's face. He ran a cautious finger over Albus' cheek, repressing a shudder at the feel of the skin dragging under his fingertip. His respect for his baby sister inched up another notch. Harry, too. He knew he couldn't have done this. Not without breaking down. Or breaking something.

He watched in absorbed fascination as Albus stirred and blinked bemusedly at him, before he stuck his tongue out a few times. Remembering Ewan's instructions, Charlie picked up the bottle and encouraged Albus to take it. _It's like working with the hatchlings_, Charlie thought in amusement. Hatchlings were testy to begin with, and more than a few of the Hebrideans had to be coaxed into eating. This was no different.

Ginny had given him the full rundown of details earlier. Keep the noise level down, so no talking to the baby while he ate. He tended to fall asleep quite often when he ate. That in of itself was quite a surprise to Charlie. The Weasley babies tended to be rather hearty eaters, so the fact that one had to persuade Albus to take more than one cc in an hour hit Charlie between the eyebrows. She had mentioned something about the baby's breathing, but by then, Charlie had been numbed by the assault of information thrown at him by his anxious sister.

Albus' tongue pushed the bottle's nipple out of his mouth and his eyes drifted shut. Charlie reached over and set the bottle down on a table, using both hands to shift Albus into a more comfortable position. The movements of the miniature back were so slight, Charlie didn't even notice when they stopped.

The frantic beeping of an alarm made him sit up, glancing about the room in alarm. Ginny came running into the room – still half-asleep – tripping over the cuffs of her overlong pajama bottoms. She pried Albus from Charlie's grasp and began to gently rub his back. 'Come on, Albie,' she whispered. 'Breathe for Mummy…' She bit her lip, but her hand continued to travel its steady path up and down the back that was smaller than Charlie's palm.

Charlie gasped as Albus' lips began to turn blue, and the beeping increased its urgent tattoo. Or so it seemed to Charlie, focused as he was on Ginny's hand. Ewan shouldered Charlie aside, fitting a miniscule mask over Albus' mouth and nose. Dimly, Charlie pondered how such a large bear of a man like Ewan could handle a tiny baby with so much gentleness. Ewan's hands wrapped around the bag attached to the mask, and he delicately squeezed the bag.

After a few squeezes, the alarm stilled, and Ewan removed the mask with a sigh of relief. Ginny sank into the rocking chair, Charlie hadn't realized he vacated, holding Albus to her chest. He noticed she had started to shake, and crouched down in front of her. 'Gin? Let me take the baby…' He was afraid she would drop him. Reluctantly, Ginny transferred Albus to Charlie and sat back in the rocking chair, watching Charlie replace Albus in the cot through half-open eyes. Charlie picked up the bottle and handed it back to Ewan, and pulled Ginny to her feet. He propelled her back into the bed and sat in the armchair. Ginny had nearly gone back to sleep when Charlie blurted, 'What the bloody hell was that?'

Ginny's eyes flew open, and she frowned. 'Weren't you listening?' she asked in slight disapproval.

'I got a bit overwhelmed toward the end of the lecture,' Charlie sheepishly admitted.

'It's nothing, really.'

'Did he stop breathing?' Charlie asked warily.

'Yes.' Ginny relaxed into the bed once more. 'Apnea. Most of the time, you can rub his back and he'll start up again. Sometimes, they have to force him to breathe.' She looked up at Charlie. 'It's not as scary as it looks.'

'Could've fooled me,' Charlie muttered.

'He's all right,' Ginny yawned.

'How do you do it, Gin?'

'I can't afford to panic,' she murmured sleepily.

Charlie sat awake far into the night, listening carefully for anything, jumping shadows. He eventually fell asleep, snoring softly after his last feeding shift, eyes bloodshot, and a day's worth of dark red stubble gracing his face.

* * *

Harry lay in the camp bed, staring at the shadows playing on the low ceiling. He held his wrist up, squinting at the face of his watch. It was after one. The trainees would be in Inverness in a few hours. Sitting up with a muffled groan, Harry hauled himself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. The file of the past week's activities lay in the middle of the table. He dropped into a chair and pulled the file toward him. He let his hand rest on the cover of the file, eyes closed; allowing himself to imagine, just for a moment, what it would feel like to finally have her.

Harry propped his head in one of his hands and opened the file. He'd read it just a few hours ago, the various hands of each trainee detailing the events of their shifts. Kathleen's neat, round hand and Iain's block printing from Thursday had burned themselves into his brain. He slowly turned the pages until he came to Thursday's entry, obsessively reading it over and over again. Shacklebolt was right. They had done everything just the way he'd trained them to do, even if his methods veered to the unorthodox side.

'Reading it like that won't change anything,' Kathleen spoke softly into the oppressive quiet of the room. 'I know. I've done it every night since.'

Harry closed the file and tilted his head back to look at Kathleen. 'No, it won't.'

'I'm sorry, Harry,' she said uncomfortably, after several long moments.

'What for?' he asked blankly.

'We let you down.' The corners of Kathleen's mouth turned down.

'You didn't let me down,' Harry sighed.

'But I heard you… And Shacklebolt…'

'You didn't let me down. None of you did.' Harry pushed the file away. 'I've just been waiting for an opportunity like this for so damn long.' He slid down in the chair, so he balanced on the edge of the seat. 'It's just a bit frustrating to have it slip away like that.'

'Do you know why she's doing this?'

'I have an idea, but if you've got one, I'd like to hear it,' he said frankly.

'All I know is what's on public record,' Kathleen admitted. 'You and Mrs. Granger-Weasley were instrumental in destroying her career after the war.'

'Destroying is a bit harsh,' Harry objected. 'We did no such thing. She did it to herself. We just made sure she was given the appropriate reprimand for it.'

'Given by what we've seen of her, I think it's safe to say she doesn't feel the same way.'

Harry let out a soft bark of laugher. 'That's the biggest understatement I've ever heard.' He stood up. 'Go on back to bed. You're going to need the sleep.'

Kathleen turned to go back into the bedroom she shared with the other two female trainees. 'How's your wife?' she asked. 'And the baby?'

'They're fine,' Harry said, walking toward the scullery, not wanting to get into details.

'I'm surprised you came back,' she offered.

'I never leave a job unfinished, and I'll be damned if I leave before I can finish this one,' Harry stated flatly. 'Good night, Kathleen,' he added, clearly in dismissal.

He threw himself back onto the camp bed, wondering if at this point it would be worse to go to sleep than to stay awake.

He was still wondering when he fell asleep.

* * *

Arthur pushed the door to Ginny's room open. Ginny wasn't in the bed, so Arthur assumed she was with Albus. Charlie was curled up in a squashy armchair, both legs draped over one arm, while his head lay pillowed on the other, an occasional light snore coming from his half-opened mouth.

It made Arthur itch for a camera.

He set the basket on the table next to the bed, and reached down to shake one of Charlie's legs to wake him. He remembered not to stand near Charlie's arms. He was liable to groggily try to clout someone for attempting to wake him up too early. How Charlie managed to wake up for breakfast and his first classes in school mystified Arthur. Once, Bronwyn had laughingly told the family, he had even slept through a well-placed _Levicorpus_ charm.

'Charlie? Come on, then, son. Wake up, eh?'

'Eeeeeehhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn.' Charlie tried to burrow into the cushions of the chair.

'Charlie, it's time to go home, son.' Arthur shook Charlie's foot, waggling it back and forth insistently.

Charlie cracked open a baleful dark blue eye and glared at Arthur. 'I _was_ sleeping, Dad.'

'Yes, Charlie, you were. We'll take things from here. Get yourself home and into bed, then.'

Cursing in a mixture of English and the few rather pungent curses in Welsh he'd picked up from Bronwyn and Daffyd, Charlie pulled himself to his feet, searching blearily for his shoes. He shoved his feet into his trainers, not bothering to tie the laces. 'Dad…?'

'Hmmmm?' Arthur was busily unpacking Ginny's breakfast.

Charlie swallowed. 'Tell Gin bye for me?' he requested, self-consciously.

Arthur looked up, bemused. 'You can tell her yourself,' he said mildly.

Charlie's mouth worked a few times, then he flushed. He didn't want to admit going into that room terrified him more than facing dragons by himself. Too many things could go wrong. But the sight of his sister, stubbornly keeping a solitary, weary vigil over the baby hit him in the pit of his stomach. And Charlie wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it if Albus stopped breathing again, like he had done last night. Reluctantly, he nodded, and shuffled across the hall, feeling like he had as a child and Arthur rebuked him in that same mild tone for letting the twins cut each other's hair. That tone, more than Molly's shouting, had always made Charlie feel as if a knife twisted in his gut.

* * *

Shacklebolt opened the back door, leading three sleepy and very confused trainees into the kitchen. Harry was already sitting at the kitchen table, looking worse for wear, but somehow strangely alert. 'Thank you,' he said softly to Shacklebolt, who nodded and slipped out the back door again into the chill Inverness morning.

'You're here because we need you here,' Harry said simply, too tired to try and make any speeches. 'We need two people on every shift. You start tomorrow at six in the morning.' He flicked his wand at a stack of parchment on the counter. Thick packets, describing everything they had done for the past five weeks dropped in front of Lucy, Benjamin, and Eric. 'Read up on that. Any questions go to Bree or Iain if I'm not here. I'll be back here after six this evening, and get you caught up the rest of the way.'

'Sir?' Lucy tentatively paged through the rather frighteningly thick packet. 'Why us? We're just trainees.'

Harry snorted. 'And I never took N.E.W.T.s or went through the formal training program. Nobody's _just_ a trainee to me.' His expression softened. 'You've been with this from the beginning back in January. I _want_ you here.' Harry picked up a quill and made a few changes to the next day's schedule. 'Right now, I want you three to get settled and go through those packets before I come back later. Get as much rest as you can today. I can promise you that you will need it.' With that, he dismissed the three youngest trainees to the sitting room.

Harry went outside to stand next to Shacklebolt. 'You think I'm barmy, don't you?'

'A little,' Shacklebolt admitted. 'I would never have thought to put together a team of half-trained trainees.'

Harry gave Shacklebolt a sardonic snort in reply. 'That's the kind of thinking that nearly kept us from succeeding before.' He glanced at the ex-Auror and current Minister out of the corner of his eye. 'It took a group of underage, half-trained teenagers to stand up to Riddle to get anyone's attention.' Harry shook his head. 'I'd rather have them, than a whole regiment of fully-trained Aurors.'

Shacklebolt started a bit at the level of calm certainty in Harry's voice. But in hindsight, it was exactly as Harry had learned the job. Barely eighteen years old, with the status and responsibilities of a full Auror, he had been shoved into a void left even more gaping by the war, asked to do things far beyond the limit of ordinary human beings. Harry knew the rules backwards and forwards, but he held a certain amount of disregard for many of them, knowing them to be stagnant and out of touch with current reality.

Not for the first time, Shacklebolt wondered if his young friend had ever indeed been young.


	21. Night Bleeds into Day

'Bree?' Kathleen's voice floated out of the darkness.

'Yeah?' Kathleen could hear Brianna's sleeping bag rustle as she shifted, trying to settle down.

'Do you think he's setting us up for failure?'

Brianna's movements stilled. 'What do you mean?'

'That he's given us a job we can't do to learn from it?'

Brianna sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. 'I don't think so,' she said slowly. 'I asked Shacklebolt that last week. He didn't think so, either. Didn't tell me any details, but I got the impression that Harry's been put into some rather _uncomfortable_ situations in the past. Made to do things he wasn't remotely trained for. I can't see him doing that to anyone else.'

'What if he had a team of fully-trained Aurors?'

'I think they'd still be here,' Brianna stated. 'Look…' Brianna began. 'All things being equal, this isn't a dangerous assignment, really. But think about what we've learned from the successes. And the failures.

'Besides,' she continued. 'What would a fully-trained Auror have done differently?'

Kathleen didn't reply immediately. 'I don't know,' she said finally.

'Kath,' Brianna said gently. 'Stop worrying about it. A fully-trained Auror would have had a difficult time capturing her under those conditions.'

Kathleen sighed. 'Do you ever consider the idea we're holding the investigation back?'

'No.'

'You sound so certain.' Kathleen punched her pillow.

Brianna thought for a moment. 'All right, then, Kath… You were a Slytherin. You have this uncanny ability to put yourself in those kinds of shoes, and we're grateful you use your powers for good. But think about it for a moment… If you were her, would _you_ have done anything differently so far?'

Kathleen closed her eyes, thinking back to the beginning. From using parchment that was virtually untraceable by magic to transforming under a Disillusionment charm. The house in a decidedly Muggle area of Inverness. Even using the dark, rainy weather as an asset.

She opened her eyes. She could see Brianna's outline in the dark bedroom. 'No.'

Brianna slid back into her sleeping bag. 'Go to sleep. We can't afford to be groggy tomorrow.'

Brianna lay in the stifling darkness, listening to Kathleen's breathing grow slower until she was certain the other trainee was asleep. It was starting to get to them. The doubt and fear. It ate at their insides like a cancer.

She turned her head and looked at Kathleen, curled into a ball. She hadn't asked her the most important question – could the woman actually kill another human being?

Brianna wasn't naïve enough to believe that the woman wouldn't be capable of doing it. She was old enough to remember the last war. It had been her first year of school. People had been killed for far less that what Harry and Mrs. Granger-Weasley had done. Brianna sighed and slid out of her sleeping bag, and headed to the kitchen. She could use some chocolate. Harry kept a sizeable stash in a cupboard. She had refrained from raiding it so far, but she could use some chocolate now. _At least it doesn't give you a hangover like alcohol,_ she thought.

Blinking as she crossed the threshold into the dimly lit kitchen from the dark corridor, Brianna found Iain at the table, his hand wrapped around a large mug of something hot. 'What are you doing up?' she snapped. 'You're supposed to be asleep!'

'Shhhh!' Iain laid an admonishing finger over his lips, jerking his head toward the closed scullery door.

Brianna flopped into an empty chair, glaring at Iain. 'Why are you up?' she hissed.

'I don't sleep,' Iain said softly. 'Well, not much. Six hours is a lot for me.' He Summoned a mug from the cupboard and poured Brianna a cup of something hot from a pot in front of him. Shoving the mug to Brianna, he mumbled, 'Hot chocolate. Used some of the stash.'

Brianna lifted the mug to her lips. 'Don't you ever crash?'

Iain smiled a little. 'Depends. When school got out for summer hols, I slept for two days almost. When this is over, I'll probably sleep for three days, wake up for a few meals, then sleep at least another night.'

The scullery door opened with a loud scrape, making Iain and Brianna jump in alarm. For a split second, Harry stood in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes wide and frightened, a film of sweat glazing his face. He quickly schooled his face into a mask of smooth neutrality at the sight of the startled trainees.

'Are you all right?' Iain asked.

'Fine.' Harry strode to the cupboard where the glasses were kept, and took one back to the scullery with him. He paused, with one hand on the door. 'Don't stay up too late,' he advised. 'Get some sleep, while you still can,' he added in an undertone, remembering all too well the sleepless nights spent sitting just inside the tent flap.

He closed the door carefully with only the slightest sound, and set the glass on a windowsill, picking up his wand. He filled the glass and drained it with a few gulps, putting the glass down with an explosive gasp.

More nightmares.

Images of Albus turning blue, unable to breathe.

Seemingly never-ending loops of Ginny, holding James' hand in front of a small headstone set in the cemetery near his parents. An achingly small stone bearing just three words: Albus Severus Potter.

For the first time in his career, Harry wanted to walk away from a case. He wondered if he had been blinded by his desire to capture and finally be able to put her away in Azkaban. She'd made it so personal that he hadn't been able to see beyond the fact it was _her_. Anybody else could have handled this case. He hadn't wanted to leave Ginny or Albus. He hadn't _needed_ to leave them. But he had been so certain anyone else would have not taken it seriously and cocked it up.

He knew it was starting to get to the trainees. They laughed less and less as the days dragged on. Kevin didn't pester anyone to play chess. Iain didn't read as much – the books ended up splayed across his stomach more often than not. Kathleen, never gregarious to begin with, withdrew further into herself. Brianna's steady confidence was beginning to flag. Harry could see the tension begin to crease the first-year trainees' faces. Eric, Benjamin, and Lucy had been thrown headfirst into the deep end of a horribly anxious situation.

Even his own dreams couldn't decide what was worse. They veered from seeing Ginny or any of the others receive one of those notes to all manner of medical complications happening to Albus.

Harry hadn't been so afraid to fall asleep since his fifth year of school.

* * *

Ginny rubbed her wet hair with a dry towel and suppressed a sigh. Ron had hinted someone else would come over to spend the night when he brought lunch. She hoped it wasn't one of her brothers. They seemed to have a few problems handling the whole situation. Charlie had been badly frightened last night when Albus had stopped breathing, even with Bronwyn's warnings. Ginny had managed to not panic, but barely. She couldn't let Charlie see how close she had been to punching a fist through the wall. If Harry were here…

But he wasn't.

Ginny didn't want to let her brothers know just how close she was, in fact, to panicking.

'Ginny?' A muffled feminine voice reached Ginny's ears. She wrapped the now-damp towel around her body and poked her head out of the bathroom door. Katie stood just inside the door to the room, a large carrier bag in her hands. Ginny smiled in genuine relief. She wouldn't have to worry about keeping up appearances for Katie. Katie would understand the need to vent, cry, scream.

'Is someone coming every night?' Ginny called through the partly open bathroom door, as she pulled on her pajamas.

'Yeah.' Katie set the bag down in the armchair. 'Fleur's coming tomorrow. Percy'll be here on Wednesday. Ron on Thursday, Andromeda Friday, and George on Saturday.'

Ginny left the bathroom, a dubious expression on her face. 'Percy? Really?'

'You don't have to have a sleepover with him,' Katie chided.

'I know.' Ginny's eyes lit on the bag. 'What's that?'

Katie grinned. 'Care package.' She opened the bag and began to pull items out of it. 'The new _Quidditch Quarterly_, the last few issues of _Witch Weekly_, nail varnish, a few bars of Honeydukes' best chocolate, a couple of books, and some regular clothes. I thought you might be tired of pajamas all day. You might want to actually leave the hospital and go out for a bit.'

Ginny threw her arms around Katie in gratitude. 'Oh, thank you.' She sorted through the clothing and Banished them to a cupboard. She picked up the varnish and examined the small glass bottle. 'Why the nail varnish?'

'When I was carrying Fred and Jacob, I would get dressed and do my hair and face every day, even if I wasn't going anywhere,' she admitted sheepishly. 'Just made me feel better. It's completely shallow, I know, and doesn't even begin to address what you're going through, but it's something to at least look better than you feel.'

Ginny examined the label. 'Chick Flick Cherry?'

'Or, "Shag Me Red" as George calls it.'

Ginny laughed a little. 'Right, like I'm going to need that here.' She put the bottle on the table next to the bed.

Katie settled into the armchair. 'All right, then. Fill me in on what I can expect tonight. Bronwyn called me earlier and said Charlie was a bit shaken by last night.'

Ginny snorted. 'Shaken? I don't think he slept at all last night. At least not until after the last time he fed Albus. Git kept _me_ up. Kept waiting for the alarm to go off when Albus stops breathing.'

Katie didn't even blink when Ginny began to explain how Albus would periodically stop breathing long enough to need intervention. She listened patiently as Ginny threw mountains of information at her, everything from what Albus would do if he was hungry to what to do if the alarm did go off, filing it away in her memory. After two years of keeping track of a set of impish twins, Katie could nearly write her column for _Witch Weekly_ with one hand, while she changed a nappy with the other. Remembering everything Ginny told her would be pie. As for the disrupted sleep, Katie reckoned neither she, nor George had gotten a night of uninterrupted sleep in over two years, so it wasn't going to be that hard to handle.

George had been oddly silent about his role in Albus' birth. It wasn't until after he and Katie and wearily put the boys in their cots and climbed into bed themselves, did he tell her about it. But only in the cover of darkness after he had turned out the light. That's how it always had been with George. He wouldn't speak of anything deeply emotional unless it was pitch black, and she couldn't see his face. Katie didn't have to see him. She could hear it in his voice and feel it in the way his hand gripped hers and his arm tightened around her waist.

* * *

'_He's so small,' George whispered, his lips just under Katie's ear. 'They whisked him away from Ginny as soon as he was out.' He tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. 'Three other Healers in the room, just for him. Three Healers, and all of them standing over him muttering charms, and mumbling between them. Words like "pneumonia" and "brachycardia".' George's voice dropped a notch deeper. 'They don't know if he's going to be all right,' he confessed. 'But the weird part of it, Katie, the baby didn't make a sound.' George's husky voice grew frightened. 'It was just Ginny crying.' He paused significantly. 'And Ginny __never__ cries in front of people.'_

* * *

'Katie?' Ginny waved a hand in front of Katie's face. 'Are you there?'

Katie blinked and Ginny swam into focus. 'Yeah. Sorry.'

'It's not nearly as bad as it sounds,' Ginny repeated. 'Looks worse than it is.'

Katie tilted her head back to look up at Ginny. The lines of strain were taut over her face. Perhaps to someone who didn't know Ginny well, she seemed calm, if a bit lacking in the sleep area, but Katie could hear the faint desperation in Ginny's voice. The idea that if one repeated something often enough, it would come true. The mechanical chanting of it over and over again, so that it became a mantra.

It was something Katie knew and understood quite well.

* * *

Bill stumbled over a small bag by the fireplace when he Flooed home from Gringotts. His booted foot accidentally kicked a pair of knitting needles across the sitting room, trailing a quantity of fluffy yarn. Grumbling, Bill stooped to pick up the knitting, and stuffed it into the bag. He heard muffled giggling from the bathroom upstairs. Victoire and Maddie were getting ready for dinner, trying to scrub off a day's worth of accumulated grime from playing outside. Bill headed upstairs, knowing from experience that Maddie and Victoire would get more water on the floor than on themselves. He figured he should mop it up before Fleur found out. She was all done in most of the time lately. The girls rather took after their mother, save for the hair. It was much closer to blonde than red, but there was still a definite blaze under all that cool blondeness. They more than made up for their lack of discernable Weasley physical characteristics in their cheekiness. Bill may have indeed been Head Boy once, but he tempered it with a great deal of knowing when to look the other way.

'Hi, Daddy!' chirped Victoire, a wet, soapy face cloth spread over the palms of her hands. She held it out to Maddie, who put a sticky hand into the face cloth, giggling as Victoire scrubbed her hand between the folds of the cloth. 'Other hand!' Victoire sang to Maddie, and she repeated the process, drying Maddie's hands on a towel. Victoire quickly swabbed the face cloth over Maddie's face, then hastily washed her own face and hands.

'Hallo, there, Vic.' Bill leaned against the open doorway, watching as Victoire slung the grimy face cloth over the edge of the sink. 'What did you do today?' Bill followed his daughters downstairs, listening with half an ear as Victoire chattered about the things she and Maddie had done. They preceded him into the kitchen, were Fleur sat at the table, her head pillowed on her arms.

She sat up as the girls clattered into the bright kitchen, one hand smoothing her hair away from her face. Fleur flicked her wand at the stove and a tureen of _soupe au pistou_ landed on the table. Bill grinned a little. She had patiently spent as much of their courtship and marriage introducing Bill to properly cooked French cuisine, as he had spent trying to teach her how to make a proper high tea. She balked at cooking some of the more homely English dishes, but it didn't matter to Bill. There were other ways to get black pudding, even if Fleur refused to kiss him until he had practically Scourgified his teeth.

Bill smiled at his wife, feeling the old scars twist a bit. He remembered the day she had abruptly asked him what he saw when he looked at her. Startled, he had blurted he just saw _her_. She didn't reply. Just looked him up and down, a narrow-eyed expression on her face. He hadn't understood what she was about until he took her to the Burrow to announce their engagement. Fred, George, and Ron had nearly fallen over themselves when Fleur walked into the sitting room.

Fleur handed Bill a bowl of soup. 'What?' she asked quizzically.

Bill picked up a chunk of crusty bread and buttered it. 'Nothing.' He chewed his bread, carefully picking the right words to say. 'I think I should go tonight.'

Fleur sighed through her nose, and put a bowl of soup in front of Victoire. 'I am fine,' she stated, putting some of the vegetables from the soup into a small bowl for Maddie, and waving a small Cooling charm over it.

'You don't need to stay up all night, then come home and deal with the girls,' Bill countered.

Fleur gave him a look, and swirled her spoon through her own bowl. 'Ginny needs us,' she said simply. 'And I will be zere to help.'

Bill dipped his spoon into his bowl, knowing now would be a good time for a strategic retreat.

It was later, after the girls were bathed and put to bed, he saw his opening. He hadn't been the only one in the family to routinely beat Ron at chess for nothing. Fleur was sprawled on the sofa, a magazine held in her slack hands, sound asleep. Bill looked at his watch. It was only eight-thirty. She was sleeping a great deal more than she had with either Victoire or Maddie. He cupped her cheek with his hand, his thumb brushing over the graceful arch of her cheekbone. Her bright blue eyes fluttered open. 'What time ees it?'

'Time for you to go upstairs and get into bed. That sofa will put knots in your back.'

'_Non­_.' She closed her eyes again, and slowly exhaled. 'I will wake up in time to go to ze hospital,' she assured Bill.

Bill's lips tightened into a grimace. She was every bit as stubborn as he was sometimes. 'Fleur, please, let me go instead.'

Fleur cracked open one eyelid. She sat up and glared at Bill. 'You will promise not to discuss anyzing important wiz Ginny, yes?'

'Define important,' Bill retorted.

Fleur stood up, her hands on her hips. 'You are not to discuss Harry or ze case.'

Bill blew out the breath he had been holding. 'Fleur…'

'Promise me, or I will go right now.'

'Fine.'

'_Bon_.' She started to go upstairs, but paused, one foot on the first riser. 'And so help me, if I hear from Ginny zat you so much as zought ze words, "Harry Potter", you will sleep on zat horribly uncomfortable sofa until after zis baby is born!' Fleur threatened.

Bill merely nodded. Privately, he felt Fleur was being slightly unreasonable, but she always did get a bit dramatic when she was hormonal. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The dimly lit kitchen was ever murkier from the quantity of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder they regularly used in the front room. A young man sat at the rickety table, cutting letters out from a quantity of magazines, teetering in a stack on a spindly chair. He hadn't seen Potter in the press box lately. Rumor had it she was flying solo these days, while her husband gallivanted about, chasing shadows. He smirked mirthlessly at the idea of her banging about that large empty house alone with two kids.

It was nothing less than she deserved. _Haughty bitch_, he growled to himself. He had never liked her. He hated her now more than he had in his last days playing. Potter had just started playing for Holyhead as a reserve Chaser, but on one game, his last game, she had been pulled in as a Seeker. The Harpies' Seeker and reserve Seeker had both left the game with rather severe concussions. She had stepped in to the position, sending a cheeky grin up to the family box that held her family as she swooped by it.

And Harry.

Scowling, the man arranged the letters into the first word, adhering them to the parchment with his wand.

He had come into the game, just after she had.

Potter saw the Snitch before he did.

She swooped out of a dive, the Snitch clenched in her fist, whooping triumphantly. It was then he felt the first twinges of bitterness.

He loathed her and her damned charmed life.

Every letter he added to the parchment on the table twisted the knife in her back a little more.

It gave him a sick sense of satisfaction that nearly bordered on sexual pleasure.

* * *

Ginny looked down at the journal in her lap. When she had pulled it out of the bag Katie brought last night, she remembered something Ron and Hermione had done when Hermione went to Australia. She had begun to write while she sat in the rocking chair over the course of the day.

She didn't just write about the baby.

She wrote about Charlie and the drawing of her nursing Albus he had left.

She wrote a reply to the letter Harry had left in her book.

And the one he had left in his desk at home. The one she wasn't supposed to have read.

She wrote about Katie and the care package.

About how Ron brought her lunch and sat with her while she ate, talking about the shop.

How much she missed James and how her fear that something would happen to Albus kept her in the hospital and how it began to flirt with resentment that she felt she had to neglect one son, in order to maintain her watch over the other. And the deep, tearing guilt she felt at being forced to choose between her two sons. She hoped James wouldn't remember.

Ginny had written so much over the day, her hand cramped by dinner time. Her fingers numbed by the stiffness, she had to stop, because she couldn't hold a quill and write legibly anymore that day.

The door creaked open, and Ginny's mouth dropped open in shock to see Bill standing on the threshold, instead of Fleur.

Bill stood uncertainly, framed by the doorway. 'Fleur couldn't come tonight,' he mumbled. 'She said to bring you this.' He held out the bag with the knitting he tripped over earlier.

Ginny laid the journal aside and slid off the bed, taking the bag from Bill's hand. 'Is she all right?'

'Yeah, just not feeling very well,' Bill said stiffly. He inched into the room, and flopped into the armchair.

Ginny watched as he began to drum his fingers on the arm. Shrugging, she went back to the bed, and picked up the journal once more, skimming over what she had written, when Bill began to fidget, picking at a loose thread in the upholstery of the chair. He heaved several short sighs through his nose. After several minutes of this, Ginny couldn't take it anymore. 'What is your problem?'

'Nothing.'

'Oh for Merlin's sake, Bill, if you're going to do that all night, just go home.' Ginny's head bent back over the journal.

Bill folded his arms over his chest, and glared at the top of his baby sister's head.

Ginny didn't look up. 'Spit it out, Bill, before I ask Ewan to have you removed,' she said threatened.

'How can you be okay with this?' Bill hissed.

Ginny, sensing the infamous Weasley temper about to boil over, yanked her wand from under the pillow and jabbed it at the door, before adding extra Silencing charms to the room. 'What do you mean?'

'Harry! Leaving you like this! Is this how the rest of your marriage is going to be? With him _gone_ like this?'

Ginny carefully put the journal down, and unfolded her body from the bed. Shaking with barely suppressed anger, she marched to where Bill sat. 'My marriage,' she began quietly, 'is not up for discussion with you or anyone else.'

'Then why don't you think about your children for once, and not about yourself?' Bill bellowed, rising to his full height. 'Is this the most stable way to raise them? Do you _want_ them to hear you crying at night, waiting for him to come home from Merlin knows where he's been?'

'Since when do you have the right to question _my_ life, William Arthur Weasley? _My_ life!' Ginny nearly screamed, jabbing her finger into Bill's chest.

'I have _every_ right! I'm your brother!'

Ginny felt her hand reflexively pull back, and managed to refrain from slapping Bill, just in time. She stood in front of Bill, her hand clenched into a fist, panting from the effort to not clout her git of a brother over the head. 'I am an adult,' she said slowly. 'This is his job,' she added. 'And he hasn't _left_ me,' she spat. 'Nor have I left him.'

Ginny forced herself to take a step back. And another, until her hand hit the doorknob. She twisted it savagely, yanking the door open. 'Get out,' she said levelly. 'If all you're going to do is browbeat me over something neither he, nor I have any sort of control over, then you can leave.'

Bill's jaw fell in astonishment. 'I just don't want to see you hurt, Ginny.'

'Just go, Bill. I can't do this right now.' Ginny's gaze fixed unwaveringly on Bill.

'But… the baby…' Bill held up his wrist, already clad in a dark green bracelet.

'If you feel you must, then stay in the waiting area,' Ginny snarled. 'And he has a bloody name! It's Albus! _Not_ "the baby"!' She jerked her head at the open door. 'Get out of my room, Bill. If I have to ask you again, I will let Ewan do the asking.'

Bill's shoulders slumped in defeat and he walked out of the room, pausing at the door. 'Gin?' He reached out a tentative hand toward her, but she shook her head mutely, eyes blazing. Bill pulled his hand back, as if he'd been burned and trudged toward the waiting area.

* * *

A/N: Happy birthday, Steph! :)

Chick-Flick Cherry is a shade of nail polish by OPI. I have an insane obsession with what they name their nail polishes...


	22. Losing Faith

Bill stood in the corridor, unsure of whether to stay or go home. Ginny had firmly closed the door as soon as he had cleared the doorway. Sighing, Bill conjured a straight-backed chair and set it down with a _thump_ on the floor. He shuddered slightly at what would happen if Fleur found out what he'd said to Ginny. Fleur may have only been one-quarter Veela, but she had a temper to match anything Molly could have thrown at him. Thinking of Molly made Bill's heart twist. Since Harry had left on his assignment and Ginny and James moved into the Burrow for the time being, Bill was put in mind of the time Molly had taken him and Charlie to Grannie Prewett's.

It had been thirty years, and most of it was hazy to Bill, but he clearly remembered getting up for a drink of water and passing by the bedroom where Molly slept. The door was ajar, and Bill stopped, hearing a muffled choking sound. He put his hand on the door, and pushed it open a bit more, and stood in shock to see his mother facedown on the bed, crying. To Bill's five year-old mind, mums weren't supposed to cry.

* * *

_Bill forgot all about the water. He padded into the room and stood next to the bed. 'Mum?'_

_The cries stopped suddenly, as if Molly had flicked a switch. She sat up, using both hands to wipe her cheeks, her hair falling into her face. 'Are you all right, Bill?' Bill nodded silently. 'Is it Charlie?' He shook his head. _

'_I wanted some water,' he whispered._

_Molly picked up a glass on a table next to the bed and handed it to Bill. He took a few perfunctory sips and passed it back to his mother. Molly slid off the bed, and took Bill's hand and took him back to the room he shared with Charlie. 'Back to bed with you, then.' She tucked Bill into the small bed and leaned down to kiss his forehead._

'_Mum?' Bill clutched his stuffed Kneazle, worrying one of its ears between his forefinger and thumb. _

'_Yes, Bill?' Molly smoothed Bill's hair away from his face._

'_I want to go home,' he sniffed._

* * *

A few days later, Molly went back to the Burrow, Bill and Charlie in tow. They had never talked about it. Bill didn't think Charlie remembered any of it. He had only been a bit older than James. Most of it was so hazy to Bill, it might have been a bad dream, save for the memory of seeing Molly cry.

Bill pushed his feet against the floor, and tilted the chair back against the wall. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the lines of the scars under his fingers. His stomach churned with unease in the unnaturally silent corridor. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. He remembered when Molly and Arthur had brought Ginny home. It was a few months before his eleventh birthday. The next year he'd gone to school. When she was eight, he went to Egypt, and stayed there for five years. When he had come up for the Triwizard tournament her third year, Bill had barely recognized her. It had been strange for him to think of Ginny as nearly grown. She was still that precocious imp whom he caught breaking into the broom shed at the age of six. She grinned up at him, and kicked off, flying in faster and faster loops around the paddock, her nightdress hiked up past her knees, plait floating behind her. He stood and watched her for a few minutes before realizing she was on _his_ broom.

He didn't really know Ginny. Not like George or Ron knew her. He knew Ginny through the letters he'd gotten from Molly and from the photographs she had enclosed. He'd moved to Alexandria just as Ginny got interesting. And by the time he had come back to England, she didn't need him. She had Ron, Fred, and George. And now… Now she was no longer just his baby sister. Now, she was someone's wife and the mother of two children. Bill supposed he was acting like a git now because he hadn't been able to when she was younger. He let the chair's legs fall to the floor, and buried his face in his hands. After the war, by the time Ginny went back to school for her last year, she and Harry were accepted fact. The look in her eyes the morning they'd found the two of them under the apple tree after her birthday all but challenged them to say something against it.

Privately, Bill wasn't too sure about letting Ginny be with Harry. He liked Harry well enough. His parents had all but adopted Harry, and Ron was Harry's best mate from day one. He'd seen the look on her face after Dumbledore's funeral. When pressed for information, Ginny told Bill it was none of his concern. But he'd seen the look on her face with the dust settled from the attack on the wedding and Harry was nowhere to be found. He watched her mope until the day the train left for school. After the war, Bill worried that Harry's choice to go into the Aurors would end up hurting Ginny.

Bill believed he was right. No matter what Ginny said.

The shriek of an alarm blasted from the room where Albus slept. Before Bill could stand up, Ginny shot out of her room, and scooped Albus from the cot. Bill stood in the doorway, holding his breath. Ginny held Albus to her chest, murmuring to him, while she rubbed his back. In a moment the klaxon of the alarm ceased. She heaved a sigh of relief and settled into the rocking chair, using one hand to unbutton her pajama top. Bill hastily averted his eyes, his gaze fixed on the toes of his boots. When he dared to look up, Ginny was slowly rocking, while she nursed the baby.

It was the first time Bill had gotten a good look at him.

Charlie had come to Shell Cottage Monday evening, his scarred and roughened hands expressively gauging how small Albus was. To Bill, it looked as if Ginny was holding a doll. He didn't know how long he stood there, watching Ginny and her son. But too soon, the piercing alarm went off again, and again, Bill watched dumbfounded as Ginny gently, but firmly encouraged Albus to breathe once more. It seemed to Bill that the alarm went on for hours, but in less than a minute, the large male trainee used a bag with a mask attached to it to force air into the baby's lungs. Ginny exchanged a few words with the trainee, the Ewan she had spoken of earlier, Bill supposed, and carefully laid the baby back into the cot.

She turned and began to trudge toward the door. Bill stepped aside as she approached the doorway. Ginny pointedly ignored him and went back into her room, her face pale under the scattered freckles across her cheeks.

Bill went back to his chair, staring into the darkened room at the halo of soft light around the baby's cot.

The unfairness of the situation crashed around Bill's head.

If this person Harry was chasing wanted to kill him, Bill was afraid they would have to take a number. He wanted to be first in line.

The Boy-Who-Lived was going to wish he hadn't.

Harry was going to have a lot to answer for when he came home.

* * *

Arthur strolled into the waiting area of St. Mungo's maternity/neonatal wing, Ginny's breakfast in hand. He stopped, momentarily confused when he saw Bill sitting on a sofa, his feet stretched in front of him. Arthur could have sworn Fleur was supposed to be here, but Bill looked like he was asleep and Arthur decided he should see to Ginny first. He knocked softly on the door to Ginny's room, and it swung open.

Ginny stood on the other side, her eyes red and puffy. She looked as if she hadn't slept much, and Arthur felt the hair on the back of his neck ripple. This couldn't be good. He sidled into the room, and set the basket on the table. 'So, how's Al?'

Ginny slumped into the armchair, curling into its cushions. 'Fine.'

'Really?'

Ginny's eyes opened to slits. 'No.' She reached for the tea Arthur was holding out to her, but refused to say anything else.

'So… Bill?' Arthur gestured toward the waiting area.

'Fleur wasn't feeling well.'

'Ah.' Arthur quietly unpacked the rest of the food, feeling there was more to the story.

'I didn't care for his topic of conversation,' Ginny said, a hint of defiance coloring her voice, as she answered Arthur's unspoken question.

'Oh.' Arthur wisely dropped the subject and dug a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Ginny. 'James drew this for you yesterday.'

Ginny unfolded it and smiled wistfully at the crayoned scribbles festooning the paper. Arthur pointed to a whorl of black. 'That's Harry, or so James says.' His finger moved to a bright orange spiral. 'He says that's you.' A smaller puff of black was between them. 'And that's James.'

Ginny didn't bother to restrain the tears that slipped down her cheeks. Arthur handed her a handkerchief and perched on the arm of the chair, awkwardly wrapping an arm around Ginny's shoulders. 'I'm sorry,' she said, wiping her face with the handkerchief. 'I'm just so tired.'

'Shhhh. It's all right, Gin.' Arthur pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 'I'm surprised you're still standing upright with all you've been through.'

Ginny looked down at the crayoned drawing in her hand. 'Do you think it would be all right if I came to see James later today?'

'That would be fine. He misses you and Harry.' Arthur gave Ginny a small hug, and rose from the armchair. 'I need to get to work. I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Dad?' Arthur turned at the sound of Ginny's voice. 'Thanks.'

Arthur nodded and returned to the waiting area and sat next to Bill, shaking him awake. Bill blinked groggily at Arthur for a moment, before sitting up and raking his hands through his hair. 'What did you say to Ginny to upset her?' Arthur asked, point-blank.

'Nothing,' Bill sulked.

'If you didn't say anything, then why in Merlin's name are you sitting out here?' Arthur asked with deceptive serenity, polishing his glasses on the hem of his shirt.

'I just asked her about Harry, that's all,' grumbled Bill sullenly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the tone and looked at Bill. 'That's obviously not nothing,' he noted. Bill said nothing more, but shoved his hands into his the pockets of his jeans. 'Any other time, Bill. You could have said whatever it was any other time before this, but now was most definitely _not_ the time to question your sister's marriage.'

'I just want to help take care of her is all,' Bill mumbled.

'She doesn't need you to,' Arthur said sharply.

'James needs a father around,' Bill retorted.

'He has one.'

Bill snorted. 'Not doing a very good job of it right now, is he?'

'That's enough, William!' Arthur's voice wasn't very loud. He wasn't a shouter like Molly, but he could cow every single one of his children with a glance. Arthur took in a deep breath. 'I don't know what's eating at you, Bill, but taking it out on Ginny or Harry is completely unacceptable.' Arthur rose to his feet. 'You'd better apologize to your sister. And soon.' Bill got up and started for the double doors. 'Not now. I don't think she wants to see you.' Arthur grabbed Bill's arm. 'You need some time to think, son.' Arthur released Bill and patted him kindly on the back.

'I don't want James to wake up in the middle of night, and to find Ginny crying.' Bill wasn't looking at his father.

'What?' Arthur gave Bill a hard look.

'Nothing,' Bill mumbled.

Arthur's mouth fell open. He had a feeling it wasn't Ginny Bill was talking about. 'I'll see you later, then,' he said softly. The waiting area was not the place to have that kind of discussion. He went to a fireplace in the waiting area and Flooed to the Ministry.

Bill watched the emerald flames flicker and disappear. He picked up his jacket and retraced Arthur's footsteps. He picked up a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. 'The Burrow.'

* * *

Bill stepped out of the fireplace at the Burrow, narrowly avoiding bumping his head on the mantle. He grimaced; normally he was much more graceful when he Flooed, but he hadn't slept beyond a light doze here and there. He could hear Molly in the kitchen, James chattering nonsense while Molly made them breakfast. Bill followed the stream of babble and blinked in the bright, sunny kitchen. 'Bill!' Molly exclaimed. 'What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?'

'I stayed with Ginny last night,' he replied.

'I thought Fleur…' Molly gestured to the schedule tacked on the wall by the scullery.

'She wasn't feeling well,' Bill said.

'Oh, well, all right then.' Molly turned back to the stove, and flicked her wand, turning over a few slices of eggy bread. 'Would you like some breakfast?'

Bill's stomach lurched at the thought of eating and he shook his head. 'No, thank you, Mum.' He Summoned a cup from the cupboard and poured a cup of tea for himself, waiting until she had cut James' eggy bread into bite-sized pieces. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Of course.' Molly frowned at the tone in Bill's voice, but said nothing else.

'When I was five…' Bill took a deep breath. 'We went to stay with Grannie Prewett – you, Charlie, and me.'

Molly toyed with her breakfast, watching James smear marmalade on his face as he stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth with his hands. 'Yes, we did.'

'Why?' Bill's eyes remained fixed on the dark amber surface of his tea.

Molly pushed her plate away. 'It's complicated,' she began.

'Try me, Mum. I'm thirty-five years old.'

'Don't remind me,' Molly muttered.

'Mum, please,' he begged.

'I was angry.' Molly got up from the table and began to wash the dishes stacked in the sink by hand. She continued before Bill could interject another question. 'He joined the Order, and I wanted to join, too. You were, oh, three, almost four, I guess. But your father put his foot down. Told me outright that I wasn't to entertain any such notion,' Molly sniffed.

'Did Dad know how well you can duel?' Bill's memories of Molly dueling Bellatirx were still quite clear.

'Of course he did!' snapped Molly. 'We used to practice in the paddock after you and Charlie went to bed. I was better than he was. Still am.'

'Then why wouldn't he let you join the Order the first time?' Bill was perplexed. Arthur was generally quite enlightened regarding women for a man of his generation. Hardly a hide-bound wanker, in Bill's opinion.

Molly sighed, and began to scrub a skillet with unnecessary force. 'Because he was afraid something would happen to the both of us, leaving you and Charlie without parents at all.' She looked over her shoulder at Bill. 'That actually came back to haunt me quite a bit the second time around, when I did join the Order. Ron and Ginny were still underage, and I didn't know what would become of them if your father and I died.'

'So you left because you were angry at Dad for looking out for our best interests?'

'No, I left because I felt like your father was thinking of me as _only_ a wife and mother.' Molly set the skillet down in the drain board and wiped her hands on her apron.

'Why did you come back?' Bill traced the grain of the worn table.

'You. You asked to go home. And I knew I wouldn't be happy anywhere else but with your father. I was pregnant with Percy, too. So between you wanting to go home and the fact I was five months along with Percy…' Molly shrugged. 'And the realization that one of us needed to stay alive. It dawned on me that Arthur wasn't trying to keep me boxed into the role of a helpless witch. It was my stubborn pride getting in the way.'

Molly took a wet dishcloth and wiped the smudges of marmalade from James' face, before cleaning his sticky hands. 'Why are you bringing this up now? It's been thirty years…'

Bill chewed his lip. 'Ginny.'

'What about Ginny?'

Bill gestured toward James. 'I'm not very happy with the way it's been going with Gin and Harry.'

'It's also none of your bloody business.'

Bill reared back startled. 'But he's been gone for how long? Nearly six weeks with no word? Leaving her alone and pregnant? It's not like he's out trying to figure out how to kill Voldemort!'

Molly picked up James and headed for the back garden. She deposited James in the sand pit and handed him a few toys before sitting on the bench by the back door next to Bill. 'First of all, Ginny was given the choice to come stay with your father and me. Second, secrecy is part of Harry's job. It's rather difficult to catch the witch or wizard when it's broadcast all over the wireless. Third, he was meant to be back well before Al was born. Nobody could have foreseen that Al would come six weeks early.

'And Ginny is not me.' Molly tucked a strand of fading red hair behind her ear. 'She doesn't see herself as being wholly defined by being married with children. She doesn't have to force Harry to see her as being capable of taking care of all four them. And no matter how hard it is, dear, you must stop seeing Ginny as a child. She's perfectly able to fight her own battles and doesn't need her hard-headed older brothers to do it for her. She never has.' Molly pulled Bill down and kissed his cheek. 'I know you mean well, dear, but you know as well as I do, that if Ginny wants or needs your help, she'll ask. Hard to wait for her to ask sometimes, but butting in just makes her try harder to do it all on her own.'

Bill shrugged. 'I still don't like it.'

'It's not your place to like it,' Molly chided. 'The only two people who honestly know what their marriage is about are the two people in the marriage itself.'

Bill sat silently watching James play in the sand, his fluffy black hair sticking out in all directions from his head. His conversation with Molly hadn't really changed his mind much. In Bill's mind, Harry could have let someone else go on this assignment. It couldn't have been that important – he should have put his wife and unborn child first, and not some bloody case.

* * *

'_We've been married for almost six years and you've never looked inside your wedding ring?'_

'_Have you?'_

'_Uh…'_

'_That's what I thought…'_

* * *

Harry sat on the low wall outside the back door of the house, a cup of steaming coffee next to him. It was his turn to not have a shift today, but he was unable to sleep much past five in the morning. Rays of burgeoning sunlight glinted off the gold band on his ring finger. Harry tugged at his wedding ring until it slid reluctantly off his finger. For most of his marriage it was the first thing he put on in the morning, and the last thing he took off at night. But while he had been in Inverness, he had gotten into the habit of keeping it on at all times. He tilted it toward the rising sun, squinting at the tiny words engraved inside the curve of the ring. Three miniscule words – faith, hope, and love.

Three things he was going to need to see this case through to the end. And the first two were running dangerously low.

He slid the ring back onto his finger, feeling strangely naked without it. It was as much a part of him now as his glasses or even his scar was. He laughed a little at the idea that he and Ginny had both had something engraved in the other's wedding ring. And for almost six years, neither of them had ever bothered to look.

He began to pace restlessly around the garden, the coffee cradled in his hands. The four trainees who were on the day shift were gone and the four who were on the overnight shift were in bed, sleeping. Or so Harry hoped that they were sleeping, and not lying awake. Between the first four weeks they were in Inverness and the week he spent in the hospital with Ginny and Albus, Harry wasn't used to having what he could classify as down time. A dull _thud_ behind him made him look over his shoulder. It was a copy of the _Prophet_ Shacklebolt would send via Portkey every day for them. An unwieldy method, to be sure, but much more secure than using an owl. Harry picked it up, and took the paper back to the wall, paging through it. Things were still the same. The Cannons were losing spectacularly. Falmouth won, in spite of the penalties they drew from their admittedly dirty tactics. Montrose was in first place, with Puddlemere a close second. Some society reporter speculated on Ginny's absence from the press box, making Harry roll his eyes. He pushed himself to his feet and opened the door, intending to put the paper on the kitchen table for the others, when two loud _cracks_ sounded behind him.

Harry spun around, his wand seemingly appearing from nowhere. Lucy and Kathleen were struggling to hold an unconscious man between them. Harry jabbed his wand at the man, levitating him. 'You can let go now,' he told the two girls. He slowly approached the man, bobbing in mid-air, using a finger to tilt the chin up. His eyes widened. 'Let's get him inside,' he ordered, directing the prisoner toward the door and into a chair. Another flick of his wand bound him tightly to the chair. 'Put an anti-Apparition jinx on him, Kathleen. Lucy and I will do the rest of the house.'

Harry directed Lucy toward the girls' bedroom, and he took care of the boys'. They both did the sitting room and kitchen. Harry took a chair opposite the unconscious man, and looked up at the two girls. 'Why don't you two go on back to the Skye? I'll keep an eye on him.'

Lucy glanced at Kathleen and the other girl shrugged. There was something in Harry's voice that made Lucy nervous about leaving him alone with the man they had brought. Kathleen led Lucy back out to the garden, and in a few moments, they were gone. Harry pointed his wand at the man and murmured, '_Ennervate.'_

The man blinked a few times, looking around the kitchen in bemusement. He turned his gaze on Harry. 'Bloody hell.'

Harry's eyes bored into Ryan Flanagan's. 'Why?' Flanagan remained silent. Harry felt an untold amount of anger boil inside his chest. He shoved his chair back so hard, it crashed into the wall, gouging the plaster. 'You son of a bitch,' he growled. 'Tell me why the hell you're involved in this, or so help me, I'll see you're put in Azkaban until you're so old, you have to have your meals through a damned straw.'

Harry's hand shot out, and Flanagan flinched from the expected punch to his face, but instead it wrapped around Flanagan's throat, fingers resting lightly on Flanagan's unpleasantly moist skin. Harry bent so his mouth was close to Flanagan's ear. 'Tell me. Now. If you cooperate, I'll let Shacklebolt know and maybe you'll be released before you lose all your teeth.' His hand tightened slightly.

Flanagan smirked. 'To get back at your wife.'

Harry lost all his self-control. He released Flanagan's throat and drew his fist back, letting it smash into Flanagan's sneering face. Flanagan's head rocked back and his nose exploded in a gush of blood and mucous. 'I'll give myself two weeks of unpaid suspension for that,' he informed Flanagan, panting from the effort to _not_ ram his other fist into that face. 'But given who you are, I can't bring myself to care.'

Harry dropped into one of the other chairs, forcing himself to calm down. _One step closer_, he chanted to himself. He pointed his wand at Flanagan, and with a sigh of regret, murmured, '_Episkey_.' Flanagan's nose ceased to bleed, but Harry made no further efforts to clean the man up. He felt Flanagan should consider himself lucky that he had at least healed the broken nose. Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes and thought of going home. His Patronus erupted from his wand and looked at Harry for a moment, before nodding and galloping out of the kitchen. He turned back to Flanagan, his face set in forbidding lines, eyes cold.

'I want you to tell me how to capture the other person you've been working with. Because we know it's not been just you.'


	23. Breakthrough

Shacklebolt sat in his office, trying to complete some of the interminable paperwork that seemed to multiply with each passing day, when a large, silvery stag loped into his office. It spoke with Harry's voice, 'Kingsley, get up here now!' It slowly faded and vanished.

Shacklebolt sprang from the chair behind the desk and dashed to the outer office. 'Percy, I'll be out for a while.'

Percy hadn't missed the Patronus. It was rather difficult to miss a large stag galloping through a room. He knew it was Harry's. It could only mean one thing. 'Is it…?'

'I think so.'

Percy ran a shaking hand through his hair. 'Thank Merlin…' he breathed. He straightened – the cool, efficient assistant once more. 'I'll just clear your calendar for the day, if it's something I can't handle.'

Shacklebolt rummaged through a cupboard and found an old, discarded bowler hat, it's once bright lime green now faded. 'I'll get word to you if I'm to be gone more than today.' He paused, his hand hovering over the hat. 'Get with the Head of MLE. I'll need a few of their best Hit Wizards at this address in two hours.' He scribbled the address of the Inverness house on a scrap of parchment. 'Burn that as soon as you're done with the Head.' He grasped the hat in his hand, and disappeared.

Shacklebolt landed in the back garden of the house. He could see Harry and another man sitting at the table in the kitchen. He calmly walked into the kitchen, noting the ropes that bound the bloodied man to his chair. 'Breakthrough?'

Harry looked up. 'Partially.'

Shacklebolt took in the prisoner's bloody face. 'Care to explain?' he asked, gesturing to the man's face.

'I punched him,' Harry admitted unabashedly. 'I already gave myself two weeks of unpaid suspension, effective at the conclusion of this case.'

Shacklebolt grabbed a dishcloth from the skin and roughly swabbed the blood from the man's face. 'Ryan Flanagan?' he exclaimed incredulously. He shot Harry a glance. 'Make it four weeks' suspension,' he said, with a slight quirk of his eyebrow.

Harry repressed a grin. Shacklebolt all but ordered him to take a month's vacation. 'Understood.'

'MLE will be here in about two hours to transport him to Azkaban.'

'Great.'

Shacklebolt studied the two men glaring daggers at each other across the table. 'Harry, can I speak with you in private?'

Harry rose and motioned for Shacklebolt to follow him outside. 'Is it Ginny or the boys?'

'No, they're fine. I saw Arthur this morning.' Shacklebolt paused and pointed to the back of Flanagan's head. 'How did you know he was involved?'

Harry ran his hand through his hair. 'We saw him. At the house. Repeatedly. When I was gone, Briana and Iain saw him go in with a large stack of magazines.'

'That's not enough to implicate him,' Shacklebolt pointed out.

'No, but Legilimency is,' Harry retorted.

Shacklebolt's eyes narrowed. Harry hated using Legilimency and nearly had to be forced to do it at probation interviews. 'When did you do that?'

'Before I punched him.'

'Ah.' Shacklebolt scratched his bald head, still staring at the back of Flanagan's head. 'Who captured him?'

'Kathleen and Lucy. This morning. At the parchment maker's on Skye. Kathleen put his wand on the kitchen counter before they went back.'

Shacklebolt turned his gaze from Flanagan, slumped as much as his bonds would allow to Harry's shuttered face. 'Will he cooperate?'

'He will if he wants to see the outside of Azkaban before he's too old to care.'

They were interrupted by four MLE witches and wizards landing in the back garden. 'One day, I'll land on me feet,' one of them muttered, dusting off the seat of his trousers. 'So then, Kingsley, why have ye called us oot o' our beds this mornin'?' he called across the garden.

'You got here awfully fast,' Kingsley commented.

'Huh. Fowles damn near dragged us out of bed,' a witch wryly snorted, exchanging looks with the other witch. 'Terrible way to start your morning.' She linked arms with the witch standing next to her.

'I need you four to transport and register that man into Azkaban,' Kingsley said, pointing to Flanagan.

'Looks like he's in a bad way,' one of the wizards muttered.

'Like he got i' the way o' someone's fist,' the first wizard added helpfully. ''Tis a shame, that,' he drawled sardonically. 'Roughed up his pretty face.'

'He's got Anti-Apparition jinxes on him,' Harry said to the wizard, who seemed to be the leader.

'Och. No worries, then. We'll use a Portkey. Not an Animagus is he?'

Harry shook his head. 'Not that I'm aware.'

The second witch shrugged. 'We'll put a jinx on him anyway, just in case.'

Harry nodded and turned his attention to Flanagan. 'I need five minutes with him.'

'Go ahead,' Shacklebolt said. 'We'll wait.'

Harry marched into the kitchen. He took a chair next to Flanagan. 'I'm going to ask you a few questions. And if you answer them freely and help us catch her, too, I'll make sure MLE knows about it when you go to trial.' Flanagan's lip curled in response. Harry let a grim smile grace his face. 'You can answer them freely, or I'll Stun you and force Veritaserum down your throat. Your choice.'

Flanagan paled under the streaks of dried blood on his face, but he nodded.

'When is she expecting you back at that house?'

'Later.'

'How much later?'

'I don't know. She never kept a regular schedule. Kept me on edge all the time.' Flanagan couldn't keep the sullenness out of his voice.

'She's out of parchment, isn't she?'

'Yeah.'

'And if you're not there when she comes by, what happens?'

'Nothing.'

'But she needs more parchment.'

'She'll just have to get off her fat, lazy arse and go get it.'

'Do you really have something against house-elves?' Harry asked curiously.

'No. It's to get back at you.'

Harry's eyes narrowed. 'Just me?'

'Just you.' Flanagan paused and bared his teeth at Harry in something resembling a smile. 'Just to make you suffer.' He turned his head and spat on the floor. 'Adding your bitch of a wife into the equation just made it sweeter.'

Harry's hand curled into a fist, as he desperately felt an urge to smash his fist into Flanagan's sneering face again. He shoved the chair back, feeling a smirk of satisfaction flit across his face, as Flanagan flinched, clearly expecting another blow to the face. 'Bloody coward,' Harry spat softly, turning on his heel, and stalking outside. He looked at the leader of the group. 'He's all yours.' He watched as the witches and wizards trooped inside the kitchen, and Stunned Flanagan. One of them flicked their wand, and the ropes binding Flanagan to the chair wavered, then reappeared, wound around his wrists and ankles. Two of them Levitated Flanagan outside.

The leader stopped next to Shacklebolt. 'We left the wand on the counter,' he told Harry and Shacklebolt. 'Ye can tae it back wi' ye to London, aye?'

'Yes. I'll put it away for the trial.'

The wizard nodded and took a battered trainer from a pocket of his cloak, holding it out to the other three. The second wizard gripped Flanagan's arm tightly in one hand, as he laid a fingertip on the trainer.

Harry collapsed to the brick wall and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

* * *

Ginny poked her head through the door to Albus' room. Maggie was sitting in the rocker, feeding him. 'How's he doing?'

Maggie looked up and nodded. 'He's staying awake a bit longer.' She settled Albus into the crook of her elbow. 'Shanti's thinking about lifting some of the Warming charms tomorrow, to see if he can maintain his temperature for a while on his own.'

'I'm going to go see James for a bit. I'll be back before his next feeding.'

Maggie frowned at Ginny. 'Are you going out like that?'

'Like what?'

'When was the last time you really looked in a mirror?'

Ginny mentally counted the days. 'Um, almost two weeks…'

'You might want to take a quick peek.' Maggie tilted her head toward the desk. 'There's a bag with some Wonder Witch stuff in there. Help yourself.'

Ginny walked to the desk and pulled out a small bag. She took it back into her room, and went into the bathroom, taking a good look at herself. She had barely managed to wash her hair lately, and it hung in limp strands around her face. She had circles under her eyes that rivaled anything Sirius could have produced during the year he lived in Grimmauld Place. Her cheeks were gaunt and her skin pale. Sighing, Ginny pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and dug into the polka-dotted bag. A round compact lay inside and Ginny opened it, using the small puff inside to add some color to her face and tried to conceal the dark smudges under her eyes. 'Better than nothing,' she sighed. She looked down at her clothes and grimaced. She was still wearing the shirt she'd worn last night, crumpled and stained with dried milk on the front.

Ginny went to the cupboard and found some of the clothes Katie had brought Monday night. Sending a silent thank-you to Katie, Ginny stripped and pulled on clean knickers and a bra before slipping into a blessedly unwrinkled and non-stained shirt and a pair of trousers that she could button around her middle. Ginny shoved her feet into her shoes and went back across the hallway. Replacing the bag back in the desk, she presented herself to Maggie. 'Better?'

'Much. Now you won't scare your son when you see him.'

'Thanks,' Ginny said dryly. 'I'll be back around three.'

'We'll be here,' Maggie cheerfully replied.

Ginny softly chuckled and headed toward the waiting area and an Apparition point. She stopped, suddenly anxious about seeing James, the wand slipping in her hand that had become slick with cold sweat. _Get a grip on yourself, Weasley_, she told herself sternly. _He's going to be thrilled to see you._ Ginny took a deep breath and turned, Disapparating to the lane outside the Burrow.

* * *

Bill trudged into Shell Cottage, feeling his thirty-five years. He collapsed on the sofa, making it creak dangerously. Fleur's head appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder at Maddie and Victoire playing in the back garden, and checked the charms around the garden that kept them from going to the edge of the cliff. Satisfied, Fleur perched on the sofa next to Bill. 'How ess Ginny?'

'Fine,' Bill growled.

'And ze _bébé_?'

'All right, I suppose.'

Fleur raised an eyebrow. 'You suppose?'

Bill's eyes opened to slits. 'Charlie didn't do it justice the other night. He's tiny. So small. He stops breathing. He barely eats. And Ginny's having to do it all by herself.' He shook his head. 'And I keep…' He stopped.

'What?'

'Nothing.' Bill hauled himself to his feet. 'I'm going to go upstairs and have a kip. Wake me in time for lunch?'

Fleur nodded, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. She knew there was more to the story than Bill was telling, but now wasn't the time to get into it. Bill was quite irritable when he didn't sleep much.

Bill dropped to the edge of the bed, and bent to untie the laces of his boots. Pulling his feet free of them, he stretched out on the bed. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but he was unable to sleep. His stomach churned with impotent anger at Arthur. And Molly. He couldn't believe Molly had left, or that Arthur had made her feel so worthless she'd felt she had to.

A tiny part of Bill's mind wound its way down to Fleur and the girls. Fleur seemed to be content to stay at home with Victoire and Maddie, but he wondered…

If it came down to it, would he react the same way Arthur had? And would Fleur do what Molly had done?

Bill began to methodically crack his knuckles.

What about Ginny? As adamant as she had been last night about not leaving Harry, a seed of doubt sprang up in Bill's mind. He would never have believed it of his own parents, but after receiving confirmation of his childhood memories from Molly, Bill wasn't sure what anyone would do anymore.

* * *

'Mummeeeeeee!' James slid out of his seat at the table and launched himself at Ginny. Ginny lifted him into her arms, cradling him for a moment, before James moved his head and planted a raspberry jam flavored kiss on her mouth. Ginny grinned at the sight her son presented. Smudges of raspberry jam were smeared around his mouth, and crumbs of bread clung to the sticky red jam. His hair was in wild disorder and his shirt bore the unmistakable signs of James having been playing in the sand pit.

'Ginny,' Molly said, pleased. 'How are you?'

Ginny looked at Molly over the top of James' head. 'Fine. Tired like nothing else, but all right. Just wanted to come see James for a few hours.' She smiled unsteadily. 'Don't want him to forget me, now, do I?'

'Are you hungry?'

Ginny inhaled the familiar odors of the Burrow's kitchen. Her stomach rumbled loudly, making James giggle. She didn't realize how hungry she was until she'd left the confines of the hospital with its scents of antiseptic and Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover that somehow infused everything she'd eaten the last week and a half. 'Famished, actually.'

'Have a seat, dear. I'll get you sorted out.' Molly jabbed her wand at a cupboard and a bowl flew out and landed on the counter next to the stove. Waving her wand like an orchestra conductor, a bowl of soup glided through the air and landed in front of Ginny. 'Get started on that, and I'll have some sandwiches for you in a tick.'

Ginny set James back in his chair, and he resumed cramming pieces of jam sandwich into his mouth. Sipping her soup, Ginny glanced at her son, and grinned. 'Reminds you of Ron a bit, doesn't it?' she commented, tilting her head toward James.

Molly paused, the loaf of bread hovering in mid-air. 'Yes, it does.' She resumed her sandwich making. 'Ron did learn table manners eventually.'

Ginny glanced down at James. 'It's payback, that's what it is. For all the times I used to make pig noises at the dinner table.'

'Give him some time. He'll learn. At some point.' Molly glanced at James. 'Hopefully before he goes to Hogwarts, so he doesn't end up with more of his meal on him than in him.'

After lunch, James took Ginny by the hand and towed her into Bill's old room. He proudly showed her his burgeoning plug collection. 'See, Mummy?' James patted the windowsill, where his plugs were displayed. 'P'ugs! G'andad's p'ugs!'

Ginny made noises of admiration, while James showed her the books and toys Molly and Arthur had given him, holding up the plastic lorry for her approval. Then he pulled out a sheaf of paper from the wooden box that was supposed to house the scattered toys on the floor, and displayed his artwork from the last week – pages and pages of crayoned scribbles. Ginny didn't always know what they were, but James pointed to certain scribbles, proclaiming them to be a bird, or a flower. Sometimes the scribbles were of her and Harry.

James climbed into Ginny's lap, and with the realization there was more room for him, patted Ginny's considerably smaller middle. 'W'ere baybee?' he asked.

'He's at the hospital,' Ginny said. 'He's sick.'

James' forehead creased in confusion. 'Wan' see baybee!' he demanded.

'Soon,' Ginny promised. She reached into the pocket of her shirt, and pulled out a copy of the photograph Shanti had given them last week. 'This is your baby brother.' Ginny wasn't sure how much James understood, but she felt like telling him anyway. 'His name is Albus. Can you say that? All-busss.'

'Ahh-booo.'

Ginny laughed, 'Close enough. We'll work on it.' She tacked the photograph to the wall by the cot with a Sticking charm. James began to blink sleepily, and Ginny knew it was getting close to his naptime. She stopped talking and began to stroke James' feathery hair. It helped him sleep sometimes when he was fighting it. When she felt his head loll against her shoulder, Ginny carefully laid him in the cot.

Closing the door to Bill's room, Ginny heard Arthur come into the house. She tumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen. 'Dad!'

'Ginny, you made it.' Arthur smiled.

'Of course I did,' she huffed.

Arthurs face lit as an idea hit. 'Want to go get that ice cream we talked about?'

'I'd love to.' Ginny felt a sense of relief at being out of the hospital for a few hours, where she wasn't anxiously waiting for the next feeding, or the next time Albus stopped breathing. She knew if something happened while she was gone, she'd feel horribly guilty for it later, but for the next half hour, Ginny didn't want to think about what could go wrong with Albus.

As Ginny and Arthur settled on a bench in the village green of Ottery-St.-Catchpole, Arthur suddenly breathed, 'Merlin's beard… Do you remember the last time we did this?'

Ginny started to shake her head, but she did remember. 'When Ron went to school. I was so despondent at being left behind you came home early and snuck me out for ice cream. Before dinner.'

'Didn't really have a chance to do it again after that,' Arthur mused.

'I missed it.' Ginny licked a smear of chocolate from her hand. 'It was something just you and I did.'

'I tried to do something with each of you.'

'And we appreciated it, Dad.'

'I know you did.'

They sat in companionable silence, licking their ice cream cones, until Arthur cleared his throat. 'Do you mind telling me what that was about with Bill?'

Ginny sighed. 'He… He made it out to be like Harry just up and left me to fend for myself. As if I wasn't capable of taking care of things on my own,' she snorted. 'Git.'

'He's just worried about you, Gin.'

'He's a little too late, if you ask me,' she said mildly. She glanced up at Arthur, busily trying to keep up with his scoop of rapidly melting cookie dough ice cream. 'Bill remembers,' she blurted. 'When you and Mum…' She made a gesture with her free hand.

Arthur stopped eating his ice cream and gazed at Ginny, unmindful of the tiny stream of melted ice cream dripping off the back of his hand. 'I hoped he wouldn't.'

Ginny meditatively licked the ice cream. 'I think he thinks that's what's going to happen.'

'And how did you come up that that?' Arthur asked.

Ginny let a corner of her mouth turn up in a wry sort of smile. 'I had all night to think about it. It didn't take much to put two and two together.'

'I suppose I'll have to talk to him one day soon.' Arthur sighed and threw his cone into a rubbish bin, futilely attempting to clean the stickiness off his fingers.

Reluctantly, Ginny mimicked her father's actions. She had to get back to the hospital soon anyway. 'We'll have to do this again, when Albus is able to come home.'

They slowly went back to the Burrow, Ginny's mind swinging back to Albus. She needed to get back to the hospital, and soon, to feed him. They reached the front gate when a screeching sound wafted from the house. Ginny sprinted in through the front door.

James clung to the banister, his small face screwed up, on the verge of working himself up to a genuine Weasley temper tantrum. 'Nooooooo!' he wailed. 'Wan' Mummy! Wan' Mummy!' His eyes lit on Ginny, and he made a beeline for her. Ginny picked him up, patting his sturdy little back. 'Jemmy, sweetie, please don't cry,' she beseeched him, feeling the familiar tingle of her milk letting down in response to James' cries. 'James, please don't cry…'

Too late. James broke into noisy wails, burying his face in Ginny's shoulder. Ginny could feel the spreading wetness over the front of her shirt. Looking helplessly at Molly, Ginny whispered, 'Mum, I have to go…' She shifted James a bit, so Molly could see her front. Molly pried James away from Ginny, and torn between her need to comfort one son, and the urgent need to nurse the other, Ginny mouthed a quick thank you to Molly, and quickly left the house to Apparate back to St. Mungo's.

She ran down the corridor, her fingers undoing the buttons of her shirt as she ran. If Albus wasn't in the mood to nurse, she could at least pump. He was asleep, and nothing Ginny could do in her desperation would wake him. Cursing silently, she took the pump from Maggie and sagged into the rocking chair, gritting her teeth at the discomfort in her breasts. 'Oh, bugger,' she moaned, as the bottle began to fill.

'What?' Maggie perched on the counter next to the rocking chair.

'You know how my family's been coming up nights to help out?'

'Yeah. You're the envy of the other mums on this corridor.'

'My brother Percy's coming tonight.'

'And…?'

'We have nothing in common. Besides DNA, that is.' Ginny plucked the damp fabric of her shirt away from her skin. 'Ugh. Things I won't miss later when I'm done nursing.'

'I'll go get a dry one for you.'

'They're in the cupboard across from the bed.'

Ginny leaned back and contemplated the idea of spending the hours between ten at night to nearly eight the next morning with Percy. He seemed to have a broomstick shoved up his arse when he was eight, or so it seemed to Ginny. He was all about rules and order, and Ginny was the one who broke into broom sheds.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Ginny lay curled in the bed, when Percy cautiously peered through a crack in the door. 'Gin?' he called softly.

'I'm awake.'

'Do you mind if I sit in here? I can go the waiting area.'

'You can sit here.'

Percy sidled into the room, looking nervous. He settled on the armchair, dying to tell Ginny that Harry was one step closer to coming home, but unable to. He leaned back into the cushions, and turned his head to look at Ginny in the darkened room. The only light came from a small nightlight in a corner. Percy cleared his throat. 'I'm sorry, Gin.'

'For what?' she asked tiredly.

'It was my fault,' he murmured. 'Harry wouldn't be gone if I hadn't told him about…' He cleared his throat again. 'About the letters I received.'

Ginny sighed. 'No, it's not, and yes he would.' She sat up and met Percy's eyes in the dim light. 'I don't blame you. Or Hermione,' she added.

Percy restrained himself from running his hands through his hair, and adjusted his glasses instead. 'He'll be home really soon.'

Ginny smiled wistfully. 'I keep telling myself that.'

'No, Ginny. _He'll be home soon_,' Percy repeated, hoping she would understand what he was trying to tell her.

Ginny's eyes widened, and before Percy could do anything, she launched herself at him, her arms around his neck. 'Thank you, Percy,' she whispered.

Percy awkwardly patted her back. 'My pleasure.'


	24. Ray of Sunshine

'_No, Ginny. __He'll be home soon__,' Percy repeated, hoping she would understand what he was trying to tell her._

_Ginny's eyes widened, and before Percy could do anything, she launched herself at him, her arms around his neck. 'Thank you, Percy,' she whispered._

_Percy awkwardly patted her back. 'My pleasure.'_

* * *

Ginny sniffed a few times, and used the sleeve of her pajamas to wipe her nose. With a sigh, Percy dug a clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. 'Here. Use this,' he said gruffly.

Eyeing it with a bit of suspicion, Ginny asked, 'Isn't this the one you use to clean your glasses?'

With a straight face, Percy replied, 'That one's in the other pocket.'

Ginny goggled at Percy for a moment before she let out a watery giggle. 'Did you just make a joke?'

'It's been known to happen from time to time,' Percy said with a slight smile. 'Don't get used to it.'

Ginny toyed with the slightly damp handkerchief and gave Percy a look from the corner of her eye. 'Perce? I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but why are you here?' She felt Percy's jerk of surprise.

'Would you like to me to leave?' he asked stiffly.

'No, I don't, it's just…' Ginny shrugged. 'This isn't usually your kind of thing. If I had a mountain of paperwork to handle or research into Ministry precedent, you're the go-to man in the family. But spending the night, in an armchair, in a hospital, to take a turn feeding a baby…?'

Percy shifted, adjusting his glasses again. 'Because I didn't do anything like this for you before.'

'I haven't needed anything like this before.' Ginny settled into the armchair, leaning against Percy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, like he had when they all had dragon pox, and he read to her to keep her from scratching at the welts.

'Did anybody ever tell you what Dad told us before you started school?'

'No.'

'He told us that we needed to watch out for you. That you were our baby sister, and it was our responsibility to make sure you were okay.' Percy caught his hand drifting upwards toward his glasses, and he checked the movement, quickly moving his had to the arm of the chair. His fingers unerringly found a loose thread, and he picked at it. 'I didn't do it very well. I didn't do it all,' Percy said in a low voice, not looking at Ginny. 'None of us did. If we had, you wouldn't have…' Percy swallowed hard.

Ginny stiffened. 'Don't,' she blurted. 'It wasn't your fault.'

'We should have taken better care of you. All of us. Me, Fred, George, Ron… And we failed you.'

Ginny twisted the handkerchief in her hands. 'Percy, please…' she whispered painfully. 'Can we _not_ talk about that?' She felt tremors move up her arms, and ran a hand through her hair, as if she could feel the gummy ink marring its strands.

'Sorry,' he murmured. 'I never came to see Dad, when… When…'

'I know.'

'You have no idea how much I hoped he would recover.'

'You don't have to keep making up for that, Percy. We've forgiven you. A long time ago.'

'But I haven't forgiven myself.'

* * *

The trainees huddled together in the girls' room. 'Why do we always meet in here?' grumbled Iain.

'Because it doesn't smell like burnt crisps,' retorted Kathleen. She looked at Kevin and Iain. 'Wash your socks occasionally, why don't you?'

'So how much longer do you think we'll be here?' Brianna interjected.

'Why? You have a hot date waiting for you back in London?' teased Iain throwing a pillow at Brianna.

'That's none of your business,' she said loftily, dodging the pillow. 'We've been here for six weeks already.' She wrapped a finger in the cuff of her pajama bottoms. 'I'm just ready to go home.'

'So are we all,' sighed Kathleen. 'We just need to wait for her to come out and play,' she added with a near feral smile.

'Okay, Kath, you have to stop that. You remind me of my gran's cat that used to play with mice until they were too afraid to move.' Lucy shuddered dramatically.

'It's amazing how exhausting it is to sit and watch something all day.' Iain stretched and rubbed his eyes. 'I'm going to go to bed. Any of you ladies want to join me?' he asked with a slightly lascivious leer.

Brianna eyed him critically. 'Not with the way you snore.'

'I don't snore!' Iain protested. 'That's Andre and Ben!'

Lucy snorted. 'Right. Andre and Ben are on the overnight shifts, so how in Merlin's name are they going to snore here in the next several hours, eh?'

Iain glared down at the younger trainee. 'You're too bloody smart for your own good.'

'Iain, face it. You snore.' Harry appeared in the doorway. 'You lot need to go to bed. It's not over yet.'

'You might want to edit those brochures they put out at school,' Kevin commented. 'None of them ever said there would be this much tedious staring at houses,' he said matter-of-factly.

'I'll look into it,' Harry said dryly, before he turned and went back into the kitchen. He had overheard their conversation. They hadn't been complaining, but he knew how hard it had been for them. They hadn't been allowed to send messages home, and he knew exactly how mind-numbing the waiting could be. They needed to blow off some steam. He was grateful their ire was directed at their last suspect, and not him. He supposed it was because he was out there with them, enduring the seemingly endless days of numbing rains, where the chill seeped into your bones. There were nights where he thought he'd never get warm, and huddled under the scalding spray of a shower for nearly an hour. And if they complained about what they had left behind at home, all of them knew what he'd had to sacrifice to be here.

Harry wasn't looking for pity, nor was he asking for it. It was part of the job, but like them, he heartily wished it was over, so he could go home and spend a month with his wife and sons, with no outside intrusions.

It was a lovely dream.

* * *

Percy took the first morning feeding, giving Ginny an opportunity to take a hurried shower. She took an extra few moments to wash her hair. It was getting rather manky. She rinsed the scummy lather from her hair, and decided to repeat the whole process again.

Today was the day Shanti was going to try and take the Warming charms off Albus and see how long he could maintain his body temperature. It made Ginny slightly nervous, considering Albus was only a few ounces heavier than he'd been at birth. He had dropped to just under four pounds after birth, and it had taken the last eleven days for him to regain the weight he'd lost, then to begin to add to it. Shanti had initially said they wouldn't let Albus go home until he hit five pounds. At this rate, it would be a couple more weeks. Ginny wasn't sure she would be able to handle it much longer. As much as she kept telling everyone she was fine, she wasn't. She appreciated the family coming by nights to help, but it wasn't the same as having Harry with her. And she hated seeing what her prolonged absence did to James. He had cried so hard when she left the Burrow the day before, she thought he would make himself sick. Ginny knew that if Al was going to be in the hospital much longer, she was going to have to make a few difficult choices. Especially if Harry was going to be gone for much longer.

She shut the water off, and out of habit, quickly dried herself, and with the same speed, pulled on her clothing. Percy was sitting in the chair, drooping with weariness. 'Please tell me you're going to go home for a bit of a rest before you go into the office,' she said. 'Because I know you're not going to take the day off.'

Percy gifted Ginny with a wan smile. 'I think I might go in after lunch.' He stood with a muffled groan, and stretched. 'If you need something, just ask, Ginny.' He started to leave, but Ginny's hand caught his sleeve. She surprised him by rising on her toes and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

'Thank you, Perce.' Percy ducked his head in acknowledgement and left. Ginny followed him out of the room, and watched him stride down the corridor. Here they were, nearly a decade after the end of the war, and they still carried so many hidden scars and unhealed wounds. _Some of us more than others_, she reflected, thinking about Percy and his inability to forgive himself.

Sighing, Ginny continued into Albus' room. Shanti was already there, her enormous cup of coffee at her side. 'Good morning, Ginny,' Shanti said with a smile. 'I'm going to remove one charm at a time and see how he does, starting with the one on his blanket. If he handles it well, I'll take the one off the cot itself. That's the major one.' Shanti could see Ginny's body tense in concern. 'Don't worry; we'll be here the entire time. Nothing will happen to Albus.' With a terse nod, Ginny settled on the rocking chair, and waited.

* * *

­'_Bonjour_, Ginny!' Fleur came into Ginny's room, bearing a basket of food. 'I hope you are hungry.'

'I am. And if you can figure out a way to keep it from tasting like antiseptic, I'll name my next child after you.'

Fleur laughed and set the basket on the table. 'I wish I did. Even my _maman_ does not know how to do zat.' She opened the basket and began to unpack the meal.

Ginny fiddled with a fork for a moment. 'So… how's Bill?'

Fleur answered with a one-shouldered shrug. 'He hasn't said much since he came home ze ozzer day.'

'Oh.' Ginny set the fork down

Fleur didn't miss the worry on Ginny's face. 'What ees eet?'

'We, uh… Had a small disagreement.'

Fleur's face darkened ominously. It reminded Ginny unpleasantly of the Veelas she had seen at the World Cup before her third year. 'About?' she asked pointedly.

'It was nothing,' Ginny said, not knowing of Fleur's admonishments to Bill before he came to the hospital Tuesday night. 'He was just worried about me doing this alone.' She filled a glass with water. 'He has this barmy idea that I'm going to end up raising the boys alone.'

'Oh?' Fleur's silvery brow arched and she muttered a few choice words in French that Ginny was sure weren't meant to be terms of endearment. Fleur took a deep breath before embracing Ginny. 'I must go. Ze girls will need a bath soon, and Bill lets zem play and water ees all over ze ceiling.' She kissed Ginny's cheek and swiftly left the room.

Ginny was sure she didn't want to be Bill when Fleur got home, and though she wasn't entirely certain, she had a feeling it had nothing to do with Victoire and Maddie's baths.

* * *

Fleur marched into the kitchen, swearing angrily in French, grateful that the girls couldn't understand her yet. She slammed the empty basket on the table and stomped upstairs. Bill was in the front garden with the girls, helping them scalp her flower beds. Fleur managed to stifle her growing rage into something resembling a simmer before she exploded. She slammed the door shut of her bedroom, and paced the room, feeling like a caged animal.

The rest of the evening, Fleur managed to speak civilly to Bill, not wanting to argue with him in front of the children. It was only after they had put Victoire and Maddie to bed, did Fleur allow some of her simmering rage to appear. 'I must speak wiz you,' she informed Bill icily. 'Now. Downstairs.' She strode out of the room, leaving Bill to follow in her wake.

Confused, Bill trailed after Fleur, wonder what it was that had her knickers in a knot. It didn't take much when she was pregnant. He went into the kitchen, and sat in a chair at the table. He pulled the basket closer to him, and frowned at the broken weave. He pulled out his wand, and murmured, '_Reparo_.'

Something in Fleur seemed to break at the sound of Bill's voice. She whirled around, seething. 'What did you say to Ginny?' she hissed.

'What?' Bill blinked.

Fleur breathed heavily through her nose, and throttled her voice down to normal speech. 'I go to take Ginny some dinner, and she asks how her bruzzer is doing, and zen tells me zat zey have had a disagreement about zomezing.' She glared at Bill. 'Would you like to guess what zat disagreement was about?'

Bill closed his eyes. 'Bloody hell,' he muttered. He slumped deeper into his chair.

'What did I say to you?' Fleur demanded angrily. 'What were you _not_ to speak of wiz Ginny?' She resumed her path around the kitchen. 'She doesn't have enough worries, and zen you have to talk about Harry!'

'Fleur, _chéri_, I…'

'Do not call me ­_chéri_!' Fleur shouted. 'What did you say to her?'

'I – ' Bill stammered. 'I told her I thought she was going to end up raising the boys alone, because Harry would be gone all the time,' he said, in defeat. 'That I didn't want them to wake up and find her crying, because he was gone.' He stared at the weave of the basket on the table in front of him. 'I was just trying to help…'

'By making assumptions about her marriage?' Fleur spat. 'Eet ess not your place!'

'That's what Mum said.'

Fleur turned her back to Bill. 'I zink you need to go,' she said calmly.

Bill's head reared up, and he gaped at his wife's back. 'What?'

'I am so angry wiz you right now, zat I cannot look at you,' Fleur said softly. 'I zink you need to go somewhere for ze night.'

Bill rose to his feet. 'Fleur…' He reached for her shoulder.

'Do not touch me.'

Bill walked to the back door of the house. 'Uh… I'll just go to…' He ran a hand through his hair. 'Charlie's, I guess…'

'Fine.' Fleur nodded stiffly, her eyes on the floor.

Bill walked out of the kitchen and Apparated to the entrance of the Holyhead Dragon Reserve.

* * *

Charlie sank into the sofa, pulling Bronwyn down with him. 'She's finally asleep,' he said, referring to Isabella. 'I swear, she fights it more than you do.'

'I do not,' Bronwyn yawned, blinking owlishly.

'You're ready to fall asleep right now,' he teased.

'Am not,' she mumbled.

Charlie didn't say anything, but grew quiet, and in a few moments felt Bronwyn's hand do its tell-tale twitch that signaled she was falling asleep. 'Are you asleep yet?' he said softly into her ear.

'Nnnnnnnnnmmmmmmmmmmmm.' Bronwyn's head jerked upright. 'Mmmm aw'ke…' Her voice trailed off again, and her head slowly rolled to one side. Charlie chuckled softly and settled against the sofa. He didn't mind when Bronwyn fell asleep on him like that. She often did when she had the morning shift in the infirmary. He had gotten quite skilled at being able to read one-handed.

Charlie picked up the book lying on the back of the sofa, and managed to open it at the scrap of dragon hide marking his place. One of the other dragon keepers had loaned him some Muggle adventure novel. The bloke in the book always had a bird in his bed, when he wasn't chasing spies. 'Mental,' Charlie murmured, smiling in amusement and the outlandish puns the writer liked to use for the ladies' names.

A knock on the door made him look up. Most of the others on the reserve didn't come calling after eight-thirty. Their difficulty in getting Isabella to sleep at night was notorious, so most of the people they knew tended to leave them be after Isabella's bed time. Charlie carefully eased off the sofa. Bronwyn sighed and murmured in her sleep, as he transferred her head from his chest to the sofa. He opened the door to find Bill standing on the porch. 'Can I come in?' Bill asked. Charlie nodded and opened the door a bit wider and stepped back to allow Bill to come inside. He laid a finger over his lips, cautioning Bill to be quiet, jerking his head at Bronwyn sleeping on the sofa.

'I'm going to take her upstairs,' Charlie said softly. 'Go in the kitchen and make some tea.' He gave Bill a once-over and added, 'There's a bottle of firewhisky in the cupboard by the pantry.' Charlie went to the sofa and hefted Bronwyn into his arms. She woke a bit when he laid her on the bed. 'Ssshhhh. Go back to sleep.'

'W'as goin' on?' she mumbled sleepily.

'Bill's here.'

'Mmm-kay,' Bronwyn yawned, before turning over and going back to sleep.

Charlie went back downstairs to the kitchen, and found Bill sitting at the table a large bottle of firewhisky in front of him, as well as a pot of steaming tea. Charlie lifted the lid off the pot, and sniffed the steam. Bill had added quite a dollop of whisky to the tea. He dropped into the chair across from Bill. 'So?' he asked in his taciturn way.

'Fleur and I had an argument.'

'And?'

'I need to sleep on your sofa tonight.'

Charlie poured himself a cup of tea. 'All right.' He didn't press Bill for details. Unlike Charlie, Bill could be more garrulous than a grannie when he wanted to be.

Bill slowly turned his cup in a circle. 'Did you ever think about what it would be like if Mum and Dad separated?'

'Get on with you,' Charlie scoffed. 'They'd never do that.'

Bill swallowed the tea in his cup in one gulp. 'They did. When you were three. Before Percy was born. Mum told me.'

'What?' Charlie felt a cold tendril of denial wend through his veins. Everything seemed to be unnaturally loud. He jumped as Bill pulled the bottle of whisky across the table, making the glass scrape against the wood.

'Mum left Dad. She wanted to join the Order, he said no, so she left.'

'But she went back,' Charlie pointed out.

'Yeah.'

Charlie raised his cup to his lips, wincing as the whisky burned its way down his throat. 'Doesn't explain why Fleur's sentencing you to a night on my sofa.'

'I went to stay with Ginny Tuesday, instead of Fleur.'

'Oh.'

'I watched Ginny writing in some journal or something, and I kept seeing Mum. I don't remember much about it, but we went to Grannie Prewett's and I saw Mum crying one night. I kept seeing Ginny doing that and James or…' Bill struggled to say Albus' name. 'Albus… Finding her like that, because Harry's off gallivanting about the country.'

Charlie set his cup down with a soft _click_. 'First of all, this isn't the same situation.'

'Why does everybody keep telling me that?'

'Because it's not, and you have to realize that. Harry's not making her stay home. Harry doesn't _make_ her do much of anything. If Gin doesn't want to do something, you and I know she won't do it.'

'He's been gone for six weeks,' Bill retorted.

'Five. He was at the hospital with her last week.'

'Still. He's been gone too long.'

'Do you really think he wants to be gone this long?' Charlie asked incredulously.

'No,' Bill admitted reluctantly.

'This isn't about Harry. Or Ginny,' Charlie stated.

'Yes, it is,' Bill insisted.

'No, it's not.' Charlie shook his head. 'You keep saying it is. But it's just brought all those memories of Mum not being with Dad up.' Charlie picked up his tea and took a sip. 'You're scared.'

'I am not!'

'You've always had Mum and Dad on this pedestal,' Charlie explained patiently. 'You think they've had a perfect marriage. And the idea that they could possibly have split up makes you question everything. Your marriage. Mine. Ginny's. All of ours.'

'I do not.'

'Didn't you just question Ginny's marriage two days ago?'

'So?'

'And you're trying to tell me that finding out this information about Mum and Dad hasn't made you take a second look at yours? Or anyone else's in this family?' Charlie refilled his tea. 'You've gone barmy in your old age.'

'What if Fleur does something like that?' Bill whispered.

'She won't. Although, if you keep acting like you've got your head shoved up your arse like this, she will.'

'Dad didn't have his head crammed up his arse,' Bill muttered. 'He was trying to protect us!'

'By smothering Mum?' Bill's head jerked up. Charlie smiled thinly. 'They used to practice dueling after we went to bed, even after Voldemort disappeared the first time. I used to sit on the roof over our window and watch. She won four out of five times. Telling her not to join the Order smothered her.'

'She didn't have to leave him, though,' Bill argued.

'Maybe, maybe not,' countered Charlie. 'But when Mum gets her temper up, she doesn't think clearly. She needed a good reason to basically turn tail and go back. Otherwise, she'd have had to admit Dad was right.' Bill snorted. 'Mum's got a lot of pride, Bill. You should know that. If she went back to Dad, it wasn't because she forgave him all of a sudden. She went back for us.' Bill started to say something, but Charlie raised a hand. 'And she wouldn't have stayed with Dad for thirty-six years, if she didn't love him.'

Charlie pushed his chair back. 'I've got an early shift tomorrow. Just think about it, all right? Ginny and Mum are two separate people, and what Dad did and what Harry's doing now aren't even remotely the same.' He clapped a hand on Bill's shoulder. 'You need to have a talk with Dad. You've gotten Mum's side. And I'll bet he wants to talk to you, too.'

Bill shrugged, gazing morosely into his tea. 'I just…' He shrugged helplessly.

Charlie looked at Bill. 'Because we weren't around when she was younger?' he guessed shrewdly.

'I suppose.'

'Ginny doesn't need older brothers fighting her battles for her,' Charlie sighed. 'Helping her, absolutely. But not telling her what to do and how to do it.'

'I guess.'

'Go to sleep, Bill. Fleur'll be calmed down by the morning, and you can go talk to her. Just tell her what you've told me. I'm sure she'll understand.' Charlie paused, one hand on the kitchen door. 'Why did you bring up Harry to Ginny, anyway? Not exactly a good time to do that.'

'I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore,' Bill confessed. 'It's something I'd had in my mind for over a month.' He traced the rim of the cup. 'Fleur even told me not to say anything.'

'Fleur's a wise lady. Remember that when you go grovel tomorrow.' With that Charlie disappeared through the kitchen door.

Bill folded his arms on the table, and laid his head on them. Every man in the family had married a woman like Molly in some way. Even Percy. If he had told Fleur unequivocally not to do something she believed in, like fighting Dark wizards, she'd have hexed his balls into oblivion. Bill shook his head. Maybe Arthur had gotten off lightly after all, by having to eat his own cooking for two weeks.


	25. Tango

Ginny sat back in the rocking chair with a sigh. She had spent most of the day sitting next to the cot, watching Albus, twisting her fingers in apprehension. Albus had managed a half hour without any of the Warming charms, before his temperature began to drop. Shanti quickly recast the one on the cot, and once his temperature was stable, recast the one on his blanket. Ginny had looked down in surprise when pain coursed through her hands. She had coiled them into fists, fingernails digging into the palms, crescent-shaped furrows marring the skin of her hands. After a few hours, Shanti removed the charm on the cot, leaving the one on the blanket in place. So far, he was all right. His temperature was running a bit lower than normal, but he was holding steady.

She shifted Albus against her bare skin, tucking his head under her chin. He mewed softly once, then settled against her chest. 'How are you doing?' Shanti stood in the doorway, examining the clipboard.

'He stayed awake longer to nurse last time,' Ginny said.

'I was asking about you.'

Ginny looked down at Albus' sleeping face. 'Tired. Stressed. Feeling like I'm being pulled in ten directions at once. I want to be able to sleep at night, and not worry about him not breathing. I want to take a long, hot bath, and let someone else worry about it all for an hour. I want to be able to put James down for a nap, and know that I'll be there when he wakes up, and won't start crying hysterically when I'm not. I want to cook dinner for myself…' Ginny stopped. 'I'm not complaining,' she stated.

'No.'

Ginny looked up at Shanti, leaning against the wall, dressed in crumpled Muggle scrubs and trainers. 'Don't you ever go home?'

Shanti laughed. 'I was on my way out, but I wanted to check on you before I left.'

'Thanks.' Ginny smoothed a hand over the black fuzz of Albus' head.

'Not a problem.' Shanti pushed herself off the wall. 'Which one of your brothers is coming tonight?'

'Ron, I think. It's Thursday, isn't it?' When Shanti nodded, Ginny continued, 'Yeah, Ron, then.'

'How's Rosie doing?'

Ginny smiled. 'She's great. One of those enviously good-natured babies. Ron's already reading _Quidditch Through the Ages_ to her, then Hermione turns around and reads _Hogwarts: A History_. He's going to start lobbing miniature Quaffles at her to see if she can stop them soon.'

'I am not,' Ron voice floated indignantly through the door. 'I thought I'd wait until she could ride a toy broom at least.' Ron walked into the room, and kissed the top of Ginny's head. 'How's it going, Gin?'

'All right,' she said. Ron glanced at Shanti, who nodded her head in confirmation.

Ron dropped into the chair next to Ginny. 'Mind if I stay in here?'

'No, go ahead.'

Shanti headed for the door. 'I'm off, then. Ewan'll be here in a few minutes.'

'Thanks, Shanti,' Ginny said.

'Is it really going all right?' Ron asked when they had been left alone.

'Yeah, it really is. We might get to go home soon.'

'Ginny, that's great!' Ron exclaimed softly, so as not to wake the baby.

'They took the Warming charm off the cot today and he's doing all right. He's gaining weight – '

'Are you sure?' Ron asked doubtfully. 'He still looks awfully small to me.'

'I'm sure.' Ginny got up and carefully laid Albus in the cot, tucking the blanket securely around him. 'He still stops breathing several times a day, but they say he'll outgrow that.'

'What do you mean he stops breathing?'

Ginny buttoned her pajama top and turned to Ron. 'Wow. The infamous Weasley family grapevine didn't work this time? Yes, he stops breathing, but only for a little while,' she explained. 'I'll tell you what to do if it happens to you. And Ewan will be here the entire time.'

'Who's Ewan?'

'Healer trainee. Works with premature babies. He's really good.'

Ron stretched his feet out in front of him. 'Heard from Harry?'

Ginny shook her head. 'No. Not since he left.'

'Shacklebolt would probably pass on letters between the two of you, if you asked.'

'I couldn't do that. If it was anyone else, they wouldn't be able to ask for something like that. And Harry would die if anyone thought he was getting special treatment. And it's too dangerous to have something like that going between here and there.'

'I owe you a huge apology, Gin,' Ron said quietly.

Ginny held up a hand. 'Stop. If one more of you apologizes for not being a better brother my first year, I'll throw you down into the Chamber myself.'

'Well, no, that's not what I was going to say,' Ron began. 'But now that you mention it…'

'Leave it, Ron,' Ginny said tiredly. 'You were saying?'

'I'm the one that showed Harry the letters,' he admitted.

'This isn't your fault.'

'If I hadn't brought it to Harry's attention, he wouldn't be gone.' Ron laced his fingers together.

Ginny leaned over and laid a hand over Ron's anxiously twisting fingers. 'It's not your fault. If the tables had been turned, Harry would have done the same thing, if it had been me.'

'Hermione didn't want me to say anything,' Ron said, not looking at Ginny.

'What is it about this place that makes people want to pour their heart out?' Ginny muttered. 'Why didn't she want you to say something? It was clearly hostile.'

'She wanted to treat it like all that hate mail she got our fourth year. Didn't think it was worth the bother.'

Ginny shook her head. 'You did the right thing. If something had happened to either Hermione or Rosie, you would never have forgiven yourself.'

'But you… You got left alone to deal with all this…'

'That's just bad timing, Ron. This whole thing has been one moment of bad timing after another…' Ginny gently squeezed Ron's hands. 'And I'm not alone, git. I've got all of you. Even when you do act like wankers.'

Ron edged the chair closer to Ginny. 'It's been weird, you know?'

'What has?'

'Harry being gone this long. It's been… Years since we haven't seen each other every day.'

Ginny leaned companionably against Ron, like they had when they were children. 'Same here.'

'Do you think he'll be home soon?' Ron asked wistfully.

'I hope so.'

* * *

She tapped her fingers on the table. 'Where the hell is he?' she asked the dark room. She had come to the house yesterday afternoon and waited for him to return from his errand to Skye. The note he'd been working on still lay on the cluttered table, half-done. A pile of letters lay next to it, painstakingly arranged into words. 'We didn't plan this one,' she muttered, sifting through the letters, with a ragged fingernail. She resumed the nervous tapping of her fingers on the table. She looked back down at the note, and a smile that was more of a grimace stretched her lips. 'Might as well make use of my time, shouldn't I?' She picked up the first pile of letters and stuck them to the parchment.

She completed the task swiftly and tucked the parchment into her pocket. She transformed into her Animagus form and scuttled under the front door, avoiding the Aurors watching the house. Once she reached a secluded wynd, she regained her human form and Disapparated.

She reappeared outside a comfortable house in the country, edged in ivy. 'How bleeding idyllic,' she sneered. As she approached the front garden gate, something threw her backwards several feet. She tried again to open the gate, only to find herself back in the lane. She reverted to her Amimagus form, and tried to sneak under the gate, but was repelled just the same. Frustrated, she transformed again. Giving the house a wide berth, she circled the garden. It appeared to be uninhabited. Muttering curses under her breath, she realized her prey was not there. 'Where can she be…?' she thought aloud, eyes narrowed at the silent, darkened house. With a gasp of realization, she spun and disappeared.

* * *

Molly yawned and stretched, rising early out of long habit. No matter how late she went to bed, she still rose at six in the morning. She pulled on her old dressing gown, and slowly went down the stairs. She stopped on the first floor, peeking into Bill's old room at James, sprawled across the cot in limp abandon as he slept, his ragged black dog tucked under his chubby arm. Molly hoped sometimes, that Ginny wouldn't come see him. It warmed her considerably to see James' face light up when Ginny walked into the room, but it hurt so much to hear his cries when he realized she wasn't there when he woke up from his nap. And if he did wake up in the night, neither she, nor Arthur could easily comfort him, because they weren't Harry or Ginny.

She went down to the kitchen, and set a pot of tea to brewing automatically, able to do it without thinking about it. She opened the back door of the house, reveling in the crisp morning air, the scents of her herb garden still subtle in the dawn breeze. The crackle of parchment under her slippered foot froze the blood in her veins.

Molly looked down and saw a neatly folded piece of parchment under her foot on the step leading up to the door. 'Oh, sweet Merlin,' she breathed. She remembered Harry asking if she'd received any odd notes back in January. If it had been delivered by owl, the owl waited until the recipient took the letter. This was odd, by Molly's definition. She bent and picked up the parchment.

It was addressed to Ginny.

Clutching the note in her hand, Molly raced up the stairs, back into her bedroom. 'Arthur!' she whispered urgently, shaking him awake. 'Arthur, wake up!'

'Hmmmm?' Arthur cracked his eyes open. 'What is it?'

'Look!' Molly thrust the note under his nose.

'It's a letter for Ginny…' Arthur said sleepily, squinting at the name on the front.

'There wasn't an owl,' Molly said urgently. 'Arthur, please wake up!' she said, her voice growing shrill.

'All right, Molly,' Arthur said, sitting up, putting his glasses on. He took the letter from Molly and turned it over in his hands. 'Something's not right…' he stated, his tone growing ominous.

'Should we open it?' Molly asked worriedly.

'I'm not sure,' Arthur murmured.

Molly chewed her bottom lip, thinking, before she snatched the parchment from Arthur's hand, and pried it open. The words she breathed made Arthur glance at her sharply. Molly rarely used anything stronger than "bloody hell", and after saying it in front of Ron when he was three, who then gleefully repeated it to everyone he saw, tried to avoid swearing all together. He pulled the letter out of her fingers, and his own eyes widened as he read what was pasted to the page.

­_You have no idea how much I fucking hate you. You ruined my life. You overshadowed everything I've done for the past six years. If I could make you suffer just a fraction of what I've done, I might consider myself satisfied. You don't deserve anything you have._

It was unsigned.

'What do we do?' Molly asked.

Arthur ran a hand over his balding head. 'I'm not sure,' he repeated. 'But I know we're not showing this to Ginny.' He got out of the bed, and shoved it into the pocket of the robes he was going to wear that day. 'I'll…' He adjusted his glasses a few times. 'I'll take it to Kingsley,' he said finally. 'He ought to know how to handle this.'

'Good idea,' Molly said, nodding. 'Are you sure we shouldn't show that to Ginny?'

'I'm sure,' Arthur stated flatly. 'And we're not telling her, either. Not until some of the other issues get settled.'

'She won't like it,' Molly told him. 'She'll think we're being overprotective.'

'I know,' he said heavily. 'But I can't drop this on her on top of everything else.' Arthur got up and shuffled to the door, feeling far older than his fifty-six years. 'I'm going to get dressed,' he said over his shoulder. 'I'll get to the Ministry early. Kingsley's usually there by eight.'

* * *

Arthur sat in a chair in the outer area of the Minister of Magic's offices, his foot tapping impatiently. He glanced up as footsteps came down the hallway. Percy walked into the office, stopping on the threshold of the office. 'Dad? What are you doing here?'

'I need to see Kingsley.'

'Is Ginny all right? The baby?' Percy inquired anxiously.

'They're fine, as far as I know. But I need to see Kingsley.'

Percy's head cocked to one side, his sharp glance noting the corner of parchment sticking out of his father's pocket. 'She's gotten one of them, hasn't she? Ginny, I mean.'

'One of what?'

'Anonymous letter.' Percy's lips thinned into a white slash across his face, as he pressed them together in an attempt to keep from vomiting.

'How would you know about that…?' Arthur began to ask, before a light dawned in his eyes. 'You got them, too.' Percy nodded silently. 'Who else?' When Percy started to shake his head, Arthur demanded, 'Who else?"

'Hermione.' It cost Percy a great deal of effort to say it, his mouth barely opening enough for the word to get out.

Arthur paled slightly. 'You're not to say a word to anyone else,' he ordered his son. 'Especially not Ginny.'

'Percy, when is the French Minister coming by?' Shacklebolt's voice rang down the corridor.

'Um…' Percy frantically searched a calendar on his desk. 'Ten.'

'Something's come up with the O.W.L and N.E.W.T. scores. Can you go to Hogwarts later today and handle that? Michel is quite picky when it comes to who he deals with and he won't talk to anyone but me,' Shacklebolt said coming into the office. 'Arthur! How are you?' he greeted the older man warmly.

'I'm fine,' Arthur said stiffly.

'Ginny and the baby are all right?'

'They're fine, but I need to show this to you.' Arthur drew the parchment from his pocket. 'This came for Ginny this morning…' He handed it to Shacklebolt.

Shacklebolt unfolded the parchment, his eyes narrowing. 'I'll be back before ten,' he informed Percy, opening the cupboard where they kept rubbish for Portkeys, and emerging with a much-abused lime green bowler. 'I'll be heartily glad when we use the last of these…' he muttered. He tapped the hat with his wand, muttering the spell. In a moment he disappeared.

* * *

Andre stood in the kitchen, wearing his pajamas, doggedly cooking a hot breakfast before he went to sleep. He firmly believed he slept better if he ate something warm before he went to sleep. His French grandfather firmly believed in making sure he and all his siblings knew how to cook basic French cuisine, at the very least. _Grandpère would have a stroke if he knew I was having an omelet for breakfast_, Andre reflected wryly. His grandfather regarded most English eating habits with a high amount of suspicion. Omelets, in his grandfather's opinion, were not breakfast food. He turned quickly, when he heard a _crack_ in the back garden, dropping the spatula on the counter with a clatter, drawing his wand from the pocket of his pajama bottoms. Shacklebolt burst through the back door. 'Where's Harry?' he asked.

'On Skye.' Andre turned back to his breakfast and slid the omelet onto a plate. 'He'll be back this evening.'

'Damn it,' Shacklebolt growled. 'Tell him I'm coming back this evening, all right?'

'I'll let him know.' Andre began to eat, and looked up at Shacklebolt. 'Everything all right back home?'

'It's fine.'

Andre shrugged and went back to his food.

* * *

The Healer who specialized in caring for premature babies bent over Albus. She crooned gently to him, while examining him. Anne McAllister had seen babies in far worse situations than this, and felt he had made significant progress since birth. Had he been born today, at his present weight, which was just about four and a half pounds, she might want to keep him in for a few days, just to make sure he gained weight, and didn't come down with jaundice. She tucked the blanket around him securely and picked up the file from Shanti and the trainees that detailed his development over the last two weeks. He was able to nurse or take a bottle, he only had a Warming charm on his blanket, and he was gaining weight at a good pace. He still had episodes of apnea, but that was something Ginny could handle at home, if they kept the monitor on his ankle, and taught her to use the bag to make him breathe, if he needed it. Anne noted in the file, they had asked if it was possible to do Albus' check ups at their home. Anne knew Ginny had a small child at home, and the less disruption there was to their routine, the better.

She crossed the corridor to Ginny's room, and knocked softly on the door. 'Ginny?'

'Yes?' The door opened, and Ginny stood anxiously in the doorway.

Anne entered the room, and sat in the armchair. 'I'm going to let you go home tomorrow.' She paused and smiled. 'The both of you.'

Ginny sat down hard on the edge of the bed. 'Seriously?'

'Yes. He's doing well, and Ewan will come over once a week to check on him, and I'll have him set that up with you before you leave. I'll also have him train you to use the bag, in case Albus needs it. We're keeping the monitor on him, and all the information will be recorded in a file you'll have with you. If you think there's anything wrong, bring him over here straightaway.'

Ginny let out a short bark of laughter. 'What if it's nothing and I'm just seeing things?'

'I won't think you've gone barking. You've done this before. Trust your instincts. Bring him in if he's not going through as many nappies, or he's losing weight.' Anne patted Ginny on the shoulder. 'You can handle this. And you should really limit visits from family members for the time being. At least for another month or so.'

Ginny raised an appraising eyebrow. 'You mean I can tell my family to bugger off and leave me alone?'

'Well not in those words, if you still want them to talk to you later,' Anne said dryly.

'Yeah. My family means well, but they can be…' Ginny ran her hands through her hair. 'They can hover a bit sometimes.' She held up a hand. 'I know… I'm lucky to have them, but it gets to be a bit much sometimes.'

Anne's mouth quirked in a grin. 'I know.' She rose from the armchair and headed to the door. 'Go on and let someone know that you're going home tomorrow. Probably about three. They can help you get settled when you get home.' She let the door close softly behind her. Ginny stared at the door, with her mouth open. She closed it abruptly with a snap, a list of things to do racing through her head. She had to call Molly and arrange for Arthur to take James to the house. She needed Molly to pack her and James' things and have them taken to the house, too. Then, she needed to get Molly to help her take Albus home.

Home.

Not to the Burrow. But to their home. Ginny's chin trembled and she buried her face in her hands, breathing deeply. She had far too much to do to start crying now. Calmer, Ginny pulled open the door, and made her way to an Apparition point, checking her watch, as she walked. It was James' naptime, so he wouldn't be awake when she got to the Burrow.

* * *

Harry trudged into the kitchen with Kathleen, stiff from sitting on a chilly boulder most of the day. 'Go get cleaned up,' he told her wearily. She nodded and plodded to the bathroom.

'Harry, there's a note for you.' Iain indicated a scrap of parchment on the table. Harry picked up the parchment and flicked it open with the edge of his thumb. He blinked at the note a few times, before crumpling it and shoving it in his pocket. He went into the scullery, and poked through his pile of clothes, looking in vain for something that at least looked clean. He really was going to have to do laundry soon. Sighing, he shot a haphazard Scourgify at his clothes, and pulled off his damp jumper and jeans, before wriggling into a dry shirt and jeans. He went back into the kitchen and slumped into a chair, resting his head on his folded arms.

'Here, eat this.' Brianna shoved a bowl of stew across the table. 'You look like you need it.'

Harry picked up his head, and took the spoon Brianna offered him. He moved the vegetables around in the bowl, not really eating anything, until Brianna cleared her throat in a rather Molly-like manner. Harry looked up to see her glaring at him beadily, and guiltily took a few bites of the lamb stew.

'Why's Shacklebolt coming?' Iain asked.

'I don't know.' Harry felt his shoulders tighten as tension radiated across his back.

'You don't think it's anything with your family?' Brianna added.

'I hope not.' Harry sighed heavily through his nose. He didn't want to talk about it right now. He put the half-eaten bowl of stew in the sink, and pulled his notebook across the table, recording the events of the day. It was depressingly brief.

'Think it might be something with that Flanagan bloke?' Iain speculated.

'Could be,' Harry offered. 'Maybe he gave MLE more concrete information.'

Shacklebolt appeared in the back garden, and opened the back door. 'Harry, can I have a word with you?' He went back into the garden, and took a seat on the low wall without waiting for Harry.

Harry pushed himself to his feet and went to join Shacklebolt on the wall. 'What's going on?'

'This.' Shacklebolt thrust the parchment at Harry.

Harry took it, with a puzzled look on his face. He looked down at Ginny's name, printed in block letters. 'When did she get this?'

'This morning. Molly found it.'

'Does Gin know?'

'No.'

'Good.' Harry opened the note and examined it. He grunted when he finished reading. 'He's just a smidge bitter, isn't he?'

'How do you know it's not her?'

'Ginny didn't have anything to do with her house-arrest, but Flanagan despises Ginny.'

'Obviously,' Shacklebolt said sarcastically. 'But there's a hole in your theory,' he pointed out. 'Flanagan was arrested yesterday. The note showed up this morning.'

'If they're working in tandem, and he started it, she had to have finished it,' Harry said, his eyes zooming onto a flake of something stuck to the parchment. 'She went to the house to thinking he would be back from Skye…' he began, the pieces beginning to fall into place. 'This was sitting somewhere, unfinished, and she decided to finish it for him. Just for kicks and giggles…' He pointed to the flake between two of the letters. 'And that is irrefutable proof that she had something to do with this. Without me having to use Legilimency. And that's a good thing, because if you think I react badly to Death Eaters, wait until I have to do it with her.'

'Should we tell Ginny, then?'

Harry sighed and folded the parchment. 'No,' he answered finally. 'Not now.'

After Shacklebolt left, Harry opened the parchment and smoothed it out over his knees. He shook his head slowly, cold rage seeping through his veins. He was going to put them both away in Azkaban for a very long time.


	26. Good Night, Moon

Ginny folded the last of her clothing at the Burrow and stuffed it into the bag on the bed in her old room. 'So when do you think you'll be home, then?' Molly asked.

'A bit after three, I think. McAllister said she'd let us go at three or so.' Ginny zipped the bag closed. 'Could you come to the hospital and help me get Albus home?'

'Of course I can. Your father's going to bring James and your things over around four, then.'

'Perfect,' Ginny said, her gaze sweeping the room one last time. 'All right, I think that's everything. You'll tell everyone on Sunday? About not visiting for now?'

'Yes. But I'll come over during the day to lend a hand with James until Harry gets back.'

'Thanks, Mum.' Ginny pushed her hair from her face. 'Are you okay with me taking the boys home?'

'I think it's the best decision. The three of you need some time to yourselves to get used to each other. And James will handle it better if he's in a familiar place, when you introduce Albus into the mix.'

'You hope,' Ginny added sardonically.

'I hope.'

'Right, if that's all, I'm going to hit the shop and let George know he won't need to come to the hospital tomorrow night.'

'Don't forget Andromeda will be there tonight,' Molly reminded Ginny.

'Oh, right.' Ginny checked her watch. 'Is she going to be okay staying up all night like that?'

Molly's mouth fell open. 'She's not dead, you know! She's younger than I am!' Molly said indignantly.

'She is? Hmm. I've never asked how old she is. I just always assumed she was older than you…'

'Get on with you,' Molly groaned, pushing Ginny toward the door. 'Fifty-five is _not_ ancient.'

'Of course it's not,' Ginny said soothingly, preceding Molly down the stairs. When the reached the kitchen, Ginny turned to Molly and embraced her tightly. 'Thank you, Mum. You and Dad have saved my life the past two weeks.'

'Not a problem, dear,' Molly replied.

Ginny pulled back slightly, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. 'Liar,' she chuckled. 'It's been nerve-wracking.'

'Yes, it has been, but we didn't mind.' Molly pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and briskly blew her nose with it. 'You'd better go before James wakes up and we have to pry him off you.'

'I'll see you tomorrow, Mum.' Ginny have Molly one more hug, before she walked out of the kitchen, and Apparated in front of the shop. It was crowded with students, home from school, money burning a hole in their pockets. She burst into the door, shouting, 'George!'

'Back here!' he called back, waving an arm over a crowd of heads at the Skiving Snackboxes.

Ginny worked her way to the back of the room, and grasped George's hand. 'We're going home tomorrow, so you don't have to come to St. Mungo's tomorrow night.'

George's face split into a wide smile. 'Oh, Ginny, that's great! Ron said you might get to take him home soon.'

'Where is Ron?' Ginny asked, twisting her head.

'At the counter. I swear, those seventh-year blokes are getting taller and taller.'

'Or you just won't admit you're abnormally short,' Ginny chided.

'I'm not short!' George objected. 'Ron's just a freak of nature.'

'Yeah, along with Dad, Bill, and Percy.'

'Well, we always knew Perce was a freak of nature,' George laughed.

'He's not so bad,' Ginny said. 'Listen, I have to go feed Albus, but I just wanted to let you know not to come tomorrow night.'

'All right. See you at lunch Sunday?'

'Can't. Have to keep Albus away from people for now.'

'Oh…' George's face fell slightly.

'Don't worry, as soon as he's able to handle people, I'll let you lot take him off my hands for an afternoon.' Ginny reached up to kiss George on the cheek, and ran out the door, Disapparating as her feet touched the cobblestoned street.

* * *

Bill sat in the sitting room after the girls and Fleur had gone to bed, the morning paper in his hands. 'Bill?' Bill's head jerked up, and he saw Arthur's head in the fireplace. 'Mind if I come by for a bit?'

'Uh, not at all.' Bill concentrated on folding the paper on precise lines while Arthur came out of the fireplace.

'Gin and Albus are going home tomorrow,' Arthur told Bill. 'I was wondering if you might be able to help me get James and their things back to their house in the afternoon.'

'Do I have to?' Bill mumbled.

Arthur sat down on the sofa next to Bill. 'You don't _have_ to, but I could use your help. George and Ron will be at the shop tomorrow. Charlie has the afternoon shift at the reservation, Percy's got some do with Kingsley and the French Minister, and Ginny, obviously, will have her hands full getting Albus settled.'

Bill hunched his shoulders slightly. He hated it when Arthur used that mild tone of voice, rebuking far more severely than anything Molly could do. 'What time?' he sighed.

'Three tomorrow afternoon.' Arthur looked at Bill, who was putting ever-sharper creases in the paper. 'Knut for your thoughts, son?'

'Why did you make her leave?' Bill asked softly, the question flying from his lips before he could stop it.

'Who?' Arthur felt a chill spread through his veins.

'Mum. When I was five.'

Arthur leaned back against the sofa. 'It's complicated.'

'Try me. I'm not five anymore.'

'First of all, I didn't make your mother leave. She did that because she was angry, and rightfully so.'

'What do you mean?' Bill's fingers continued their task pressing the crease into the newspaper.

'I shouldn't have flatly told your mother "no" the way I did, with no explanation. If I had told her why I didn't want her joining the Order, maybe she wouldn't have left. But that was _my_ failing, and no one else's. I assumed she would know why I said no and understand my reasoning.' Arthur took the paper from Bill and laid it aside. 'This thing with Ginny, it's not the same.'

'Why does everyone keep telling me that?' Bill ground out in frustration.

'Who's told you that?' Arthur asked.

Bill held up a finger as he reeled off the names. 'Mum, Fleur, Charlie, and now you.'

'And we're right,' Arthur stated calmly. 'Did you even bother to talk to Ginny, or did you just assume she'd been dumped on our doorstep with James, without a thought to their care or safety?'

'I… Uh…' Bill stammered.

'Oh, good grief,' Arthur muttered. 'No wonder Ginny was angry at you.' He heaved a sigh.

'Why didn't you come to Grannie Prewett's after us?' Bill asked, hating the child-like tone of his voice.

'I did. Every bloody day for a week.' Arthur's voice cracked. 'You three were my life, son, and the day I came home and found you gone was the worst day of my life up to that point. Molly was so upset that she didn't want to see me. And she needed some time. Your mum wasn't going to come back, unless it was on her own terms, Bill. You ought to know that.

'It wasn't that I didn't think Molly could handle being part of the Order. She wiped the paddock with my arse on a regular basis when we practiced dueling. But things were starting to get out of hand. People were starting to disappear. And I didn't want you to be orphaned, or left with Aunt Muriel.'

'Yeah, thanks for that,' Bill muttered, shuddering slightly at the idea of being raised by Muriel. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. 'Charlie's right… You and Mum are our idols when it comes to marriage. I mean, look what you've dealt with, and you're still married. Loads of people wouldn't be.' He ran a hand over his face. 'Seeing Ginny all alone like that for the last month, made me think of it. But the thing is, I didn't really remember much. Just this image of Mum alone and crying. And I didn't want Ginny to be like that. It just got to a point where I couldn't hold it in anymore.'

'It's not like Harry walked out on her,' Arthur remarked. 'He's coming back.'

'Yeah, but when?' Bill laced his hands together. 'I keep looking for the cracks, you know? Like if you and Mum could get to the point where it was a real possibility she wasn't ever going to go back, then what would be the breaking point for Harry and Gin? Or the rest of us?'

Arthur clapped a hand on Bill's back. 'What is it the Muggles say? The Yanks at least… It's a crapsheet? No, crapshoot, maybe? Either way,' Arthur said, waving off the exact word. 'You can't control everything. And in spite of being the eldest, it's not your job to protect them all.' Arthur rose to his feet. 'I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, then.' He stopped on the hearth rug, a handful of Floo powder in his hand. 'If you want to blame someone, Bill, blame me. Not your mum, not Ginny, and especially not Harry. He did everything he could before he left to make sure Ginny, James, and the baby would be taken care of.' With that, he threw the handful of powder into the flames, and went home.

* * *

Ginny turned a page of her book, and glanced at the woman in the armchair. 'Are you sure you're all right here?' she asked. 'I'm going to have to get used to handling it on my own soon enough.'

Andromeda looked up and smiled. 'I'm fine.'

'You didn't have to come do this.'

'I wanted to do this.' Andromeda closed her book, and peered at Ginny. 'You and Harry do so much for Teddy. When I lost Ted, Dora, and Remus, I was afraid I'd have to raise him alone.'

'Harry would have never let that happen,' Ginny said.

'Harry wasn't even eighteen at the time,' Andromeda said lightly. 'I wasn't sure he was going to be up for the job. He's more than proved me wrong many times over.' She traced the faded title stamped into worn cover of the book in her lap. 'Having the two of you around with Teddy kept me from wallowing in grief, I suppose. And you two made me part of your family. I don't know what we would have done without your entire family.' Andromeda cleared her throat, while her eyes remained fixed on the rounded fingernail tracing the exaggerated swoop of a "J'. Ginny realized that in all the years she'd known Andromeda, she'd never seen her break down emotionally. 'I'm not doing this because I have to. I'm doing this because I want to. It's what families do.'

Andromeda drew in a deep breath and looked up at Ginny, clearly needing to change the subject. 'I took Teddy's old cradle to your mother's this afternoon. I believe your father will take it to your house tomorrow. I figured with you taking Albus home, it might be easier for you to have him in a cradle in your bedroom for a while.'

'I hadn't even thought that far ahead,' Ginny murmured. 'Thank you.'

'I know you've heard this a million times, but do you know when Harry's coming home?' Andromeda smiled deprecatingly.

'Not yet,' Ginny sighed. 'Teddy's really missed him, hasn't he?'

'I'm afraid I'm a rather poor substitute when it comes to flying lessons, or stories about Remus and the other…' Andromeda looked at Ginny with a quizzical expression. 'What did they call themselves? Marauders?'

'Yes. You would have thought Remus would have had a calming influence on James Potter or Sirius, but no… He was right there in it with them most of the time.' Ginny made a face. 'I'm not looking forward to sending my James to school. Not with George's two in the year ahead of him. Those three will take anything apart with their bare hands if you leave them alone long enough. The noise… I love the noise. It's when they get quiet that makes me nervous.'

'I hope Teddy doesn't get any ideas.' Andromeda tucked a yellowed paper swan in between the pages of her book. 'He's developed a taste for all of Ted's old rock albums, and is dying to play Beater like he did.'

'I'm sorry I never got to meet Mr. Tonks.'

'Ted was… He was special,' Andromeda sighed. 'I was supposed to marry Lucius Malfoy, you know,' she said. 'When I found out, I wrote to Ted. He saved my life. He used to sit next to me in Potions sixth and seventh years. Sang Muggle rock songs while he worked. Left me notes on my desk in Charms. He would fold the paper into all sorts of shapes. Like this…' Andromeda held out the tiny swan on the palm of her hand. 'This was the first one.'

'May I?' Ginny asked, her hand hovering under Andromeda's. Andromeda carefully transferred the swan to Ginny's palm. Ginny brought her palm up to her hand, closely examining the tiny bird. 'It's exquisite,' she breathed. 'I can't believe you still have it.' She handed it back to Andromeda.

'He risked a lot, being with me. Just as well my family disowned me.' Andromeda traced the outstretched wing of the swan with a fingertip. Tears sparkled in her eyes. She bent her head, and her graying light brown hair fell over her cheeks, hiding her face. 'I miss him so much still. That first birthday without him. Or our first anniversary after he was gone. When Teddy was born. She took in a shaky breath. 'He would have adored you, Ginny.'

'Thank you,' Ginny replied quietly. She slid off the bed, and wrapped her arms around Andromeda. 'For sharing Ted with me.'

Andromeda sniffed and wiped her cheeks with the palm of one hand. 'Look at the pair of us. Sniffling like couple of moody teenage girls.' Andromeda's wrist began to vibrate softly. 'Go on and get some sleep. You're going to need it,' she said, getting to her feet and leaving the room.

Ginny watched her walk out the door. She found herself hoping for the first time she would be as good a mother as Andromeda was. And that if the time came to live her life without Harry, she could do with as much grace as Andromeda had shown in living without Ted.

* * *

Harry and Kathleen Apparated under Disillusionment spells to their usual position on Skye, and walked the next hundred yards to where the other two had spent the night on watch. He whistled in a ragged imitation of a wren for Andre and Benjamin. He heard a ghost of an exasperated chuckle in Andre's voice and the answering chirp from him. As they passed each other, Andre whispered, 'Quiet as a church last night.'

Harry had to strain to hear Kathleen's even quieter response. He rather liked the early morning part of the shift. At least when it wasn't raining. The clouds had parted just enough to allow the rising sun to slant over the island. The soft breeze that came off the sea was refreshing, but chilly. Harry folded himself into a sitting position on a moss-covered boulder, his eyes fixed on the lane underneath him. He pulled the sleeves of his jumper over his hands to warm them, his wand protruding from the opening of the right sleeve.

Sometimes, Harry found himself lulled into a sense of complacency this early in the morning. It was eerily quiet, with just the sounds of the birds and the rush of sea. It was all rather peaceful. But not today. Harry had a feeling that today something would happen. She had a fairly regular schedule. Hermione and Percy usually got something on Saturdays or Sundays, with an odd weekday thrown in for variety. But if what Flanagan had told them was true, she was out of parchment and would have to come here, if she wanted to keep her plan going the way she planned. Harry knew she would. She wasn't the most imaginative woman in the world. He knew Kevin was right. The only thing they could do was sit. And wait.

* * *

Ginny laid Albus on her bed and tucked the end of the blanket around him. 'We're going home today,' she told him. Ewan had spent a good deal of the morning training Ginny to use the bag, in case rubbing Albus' back didn't help him breathe if he stopped, and explaining how to read the notations that appeared in the file she was going to take home, attaching a note detailing what fell into the normal range, and when she should bring him back. Ewan had then attached a piece of parchment that had everything he had just said, knowing parents might not be able to process all the information they had thrown at them.

Albus cooed softly, his eyes drifting shut. She traced the downy curve of his eyebrow, noting how similar it was to Harry's in shape. The eyes looked as if they might be the same almond-shaped eyes Harry and his mother had, but the color was still that cloudy indeterminate newborn blue. James had been nearly six months old before his eyes had settled into the dark blue he had inherited from Arthur. At this point, it was anybody's guess as to what color Albus' would be. And aside from the color of his hair, it was uncertain as to who Albus would resemble later. The structure of his face was still malleable, but after two weeks of imprinting it on her brain, Ginny was sure he was going to look like his father. She bent over him, brushing her lips across his forehead and down his snub nose. 'You get to meet your big brother, James,' she said, straightening the knit cap that covered his head. 'And it won't smell like antiseptic or Mrs. Scower's, and hopefully, soon, Daddy will be home, too. And he will be ever so pleased that you're home, and in your own cot. Just like he asked.'

'Is this a private party, or can we crash it?' Shanti leaned against the door, Ewan, Sarah, and Maggie clustered around her.

'Crash all you want.' Ginny looked up and sat on the bed, next to Albus.

'We just wanted to say good-bye to the little one,' Sarah said. The trainees edged into the room, and Ewan scooped Albus from the bed, cradling him gently in his large hands. They took turns whispering and cooing to the baby, who slept through it all.

Shanti perched on the bed next to Ginny. 'Doing all right?'

Ginny was unable to halt the startled giggle. 'Why?'

'You have that wide-eyed-first-time-mother look. Like an animal caught in a car's headlights.'

Ginny twisted her wedding ring around her finger a bit nervously. 'A little bit,' she confessed. 'What if something goes wrong at home?'

'You're both going to be fine.'

Ginny glanced at the group clustered around Albus. 'He's still so small.'

'He's gaining weight nicely.' Shanti gave Ginny's hand a reassuring squeeze. 'Believe me; if Anne and I didn't think he was able to go home, you wouldn't be going home today.' Ginny nodded. 'Now, as for you, I want to see you again in about four weeks, all right? Get your mother to come watch the boys, so you won't be distracted during the exam. If you don't feel quite right before that, you should come see me. Even if it's not something you can put your finger on.' She gave Ginny a hug. 'And as soon as Molly gets here, you're free to go,' Shanti added with a smile.

As if on cue, Molly peeked around the open door. 'Are you ready to go?'

Ginny inhaled and slowly released it. 'Not really, but I can't hang around here all day, can I?' She picked up the sling and slipped it over her head, walking over to the knot of trainees. 'Sorry to break up the party, but it's time for us to go home.' Maggie took Albus from Ewan and carefully put him in the sling, while Sarah made a few adjustments until Albus was snugly cradled next to Ginny. Ginny gazed at the three trainees. 'I don't know how to thank you,' she said.

'Train him up to be a Beater,' Ewan said, grinning.

'Don't encourage her,' Molly sighed.

'That's a few years off, Mum,' Ginny said. 'Could you grab those bags for me?' she asked, pointing to two bags on the foot of the bed. She hesitated in the doorway, took a deep breath, then walked down the corridor toward an Apparition point.

* * *

Harry rubbed his eyes in frustration. They knew everything about her. They knew what her Animagus form was. They had been looking for it, but damn the woman, she could blend into shadows almost too well. The loud _crack_ of someone Apparating made him sit up and his eyes darted around the clearing. _Damn it!_ he growled to himself. He silently slid off the boulder and noiselessly stalked up to the garden gate in front of the house. He saw her move amongst the tall grass, scuttling under the gate. He looked up and saw a faint shimmer nearby that told him Kathleen had seen her, too. She transformed and took a step to the front door when Harry whispered, 'Now.'

He and Kathleen dropped the Disillusionment charms and wordlessly shot Stunning charms at her back. Harry didn't lower his wand, as he vaulted over the garden gate and ran up to her. Using the toe of his boot, he nudged her over onto her back. Kathleen came up behind him. 'Is it her?' she asked.

'It's her.' Harry breathed. 'Bloody, effing hell, it's her.' He started shaking so badly he couldn't cast the spell to bind her properly.

Kathleen noticed, and tactfully said nothing, but flicked her own wand at the figure lying at their feet and murmured a few words. Ropes shot out of the end of her wand, weaving themselves around her wrists and ankles. She knelt and searched the woman for her wand, stowing it in her back pocket, resisting the urge to break it. But they would need it for the trial.

'Thanks,' Harry murmured, swiping the sleeve of his jumper over his sweat-glazed face. He reached down and grasped the unconscious woman, hauling her to her feet. He looked at Kathleen. 'Inverness.' She nodded and Disapparated to the back garden of their house. Harry shifted his grip on the woman's wrists, in order to gain a firmer hold, and turned on the spot, taking them both to Inverness.


	27. Admirable Restraint

Bill walked into the back garden of Shell Cottage to find Fleur on her knees, weeding the flower beds that surrounded the house. He cleared his throat nervously. She hadn't spoken to him since Wednesday night. 'I should have listened to you,' he said to the back of her head. 'You were right.' He scuffed the grass with the toe of a boot. 'There were so many time I missed being able to look out for Ginny, and I just sort of lost my head this time.' He wasn't certain, but he thought he heard Fleur snort. 'I overreacted, and shouldn't have gone in there making accusations. It's just she's my baby sister…'

'I know,' Fleur said. 'I might have said ze same zing to Gabrielle.' She looked over her shoulder. 'But I don't zink I would have been so… How do you say eet?' Her brow knit as she searched for the proper English word. 'Ah, _peeg-headed_ about eet.'

Bill flushed. 'Yeah, that's the right word.'

She wiped her hands on the smock she wore over her clothes and sat back on her heels. 'And I would never have assumed she could not take care of herself.'

Bill stared at Fleur for a moment, before pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket, and waving it around. 'All right, I surrender. You're right, and I was wrong.' He stuffed it back into his pocket. 'I'm going to go help Dad take James back home. I'll be home for dinner.'

'_Au revoir_.' Fleur went back to weeding the flower beds. 'You do not have to keep sleeping on ze sofa,' she added.

Bill ran his fingertips over Fleur's hair. 'Thanks, _chérie. _That sofa's murder on the back.' He left the enclosed area of the garden, Apparating to the Burrow.

* * *

Ginny opened her eyes, and looked down in the sling. Apparition hadn't seemed to bother Albus too much. He had woken up, and only blinked up at her confusedly. 'Give Mummy just a moment,' she told him. 'And we'll be inside.' She pulled her wand from her pocket and began the process of removing the wards from the house, so Molly could go inside. As the last charm was lifted, Ginny heard the loud _crack_ of someone Apparating next to her, and Molly appeared. 'You can go in, Mum.'

'Good, we'll get you settled and I'll send your father for some food. I'll bet there's not a bite to eat in there…' Molly bustled into the house, leaving Ginny to trail after her.

Ginny looked down at the baby. 'And so it begins… Your grandmum means well, but we'll be lucky if she leaves before bedtime.' Ginny followed Molly into the house. 'Mum! You don't have to… Mum?' Ginny heard a bureau drawer slam upstairs. 'Mum, what are you doing?' Ginny went upstairs to find Molly in James' room, directing a feather duster with her wand like an orchestra conductor, while bedding flew off the cot and fresh bedding tucked itself over the mattress.

'Just giving everything a once-over, dear.'

'You don't have to… Oh, never mind.' Ginny shook her head, knowing it was a losing battle. She went across the hallway to Albus' room, and stopped on the threshold. The cot that had been in pieces when they left was now assembled and set in the place she'd chosen. She walked over to it, her fingers trailing along the top rail. 'I wonder when this happened,' she murmured. 'We'll have to get it made up for you.' She went down the corridor to her bedroom, pushing the partially open door open with a happy sigh. This was home. It was their refuge from everything else.

She dropped into the armchair in the corner by a window and lifted the sling over head, taking Albus from it. 'Welcome home, Al.'

'Mummy? Mummmmeeeeee?'

Ginny heard James' feet stump up the stairs. 'In here, James.'

James appeared in the doorway, his stuffed black dog clutched in his hands. 'Mummy!' He dashed to the armchair and launching himself toward Ginny. He stopped in front of the chair and stared at Albus. He dropped the dog to the floor and reached out a tentative hand. 'Baybee?'

'Come on,' Ginny said, holding out a hand. She hoisted James to her lap, shifting Albus to one arm. 'This is your brother, Albus.'

James looked up at her, his blue eyes narrowed as he tried to say it. 'Ahbufs.' He looked back down at the baby, and began to inspect him. He lifted the edge the cap off Albus' head. A pudgy finger lightly touched Albus' face. 'Nohse. Eyess. Mowfh,' James chanted softly, touching each feature as he said it.

Bill appeared in the doorway, a cradle tucked under one arm. 'Where do you want this?' he asked.

Ginny looked up and tilted her head toward her side of the bed. 'Next to the bed. Just make sure I won't trip over it.'

'Sure.' Bill set the cradle down in the area Ginny had indicated. He took out a pile of bedding from the depths of the cradle and began to make it up. He shook out a small quilt, the murmurs of Ginny and James reaching his ears. 'I'm sorry, Gin,' he mumbled.

She glanced up. 'Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that.'

Bill smoothed the quilt in the cradle. 'I'm sorry. For what I said.'

'It's all right.' She turned her attentions back to James, who snuggled against her, his thumb in his mouth.

Bill sat on the foot of the bed, watching Ginny. 'I shouldn't have said all those things about Harry.'

'No, you shouldn't have.'

'And I shouldn't have questioned your marriage.'

'Again, no, you shouldn't have.'

'It's just a lot for you to deal with by yourself.'

Ginny shook her head. 'I'm hardly alone, Bill. You're here.' She nudged James to the floor, and sent him off to find Arthur, then stood up, taking Albus to the cradle, carefully setting him in it, making sure the blanket was securely tucked around him. She turned around and joined Bill on the foot of the bed. 'I know you think I need looking after, but I'm not a child.'

'I know that,' Bill grumbled.

'Then remember that next time you feel the urge to shoot your mouth off,' Ginny retorted. 'Come on. Let's go give Mum a hand. The sooner you lot finish up here, the sooner I get the house to myself. Been around too many bloody people the past two weeks.'

* * *

Harry hauled the unconscious woman into the kitchen and dumped her unceremoniously into a chair at the table, and jabbed his wand at her, binding her tightly to the chair. He looked up and saw Benjamin, Moira, and Kevin gaping at him in astonishment. 'Benjamin, go to the house and get Iain and Bree.' When Benjamin blinked in bemusement, Harry shouted, 'Now, Benjamin!' The impatient bark sent Benjamin scurrying for the back garden, where he quickly disappeared. Harry's gaze landed on Kevin. 'You need to contact Shacklebolt. Let him know we need him up here.'

Kevin nodded, and pulled out his wand. 'Expec –'

'Not with a Patronus,' Harry snapped. Kevin's mouth dropped open, and he shoved the wand back into his pocket.

'Who the hell pissed in your Cheerios?' Moira asked.

Harry looked at the trainee. 'Nobody,' he said shortly. 'Just because we've got her, doesn't mean we can operate in the open. Use your brains.' He drew in a deep breath. 'Kevin, I'm going to create a Portkey for you. It'll take you to Diagon Alley. Actually, it'll take you right to the entrance of Knockturn Alley. It's so dark there, nobody will really notice you.' Harry ran his hands through his hair. 'All right, what day is it?'

'July first,' offered Kevin.

'No, I mean what day of the week?'

'Saturday,' answered Moira.

Harry paced the confines of the kitchen. 'All right… Kevin, go to Shackelbolt's house first. You know where that is?' When the trainee shook his head, Harry sighed. 'I'll write the address down for you. There's an alley close by you can Apparate in. If he's not there, go see Percy. He has Shacklebolt's schedule memorized. Or check the Ministry. He might be there. After you've done that, and you still can't find him, then you can use a Patronus, but for Merlin's sake, use it as a last resort.'

Harry Summoned a manky old trainer hanging from one of the electrical wires strung between the houses. He tapped it, muttering, '_Portus_.' Harry tore a strip of paper from his notebook and scribbled Shacklebolt's address on it, slapping it into Kevin's hand. Before he handed it to Kevin, he laid a hand on the younger man's arm. 'Sorry for shouting…' he muttered.

Kevin shrugged. 'It's okay. Been hard on all of us.' He took the trainer, and in a moment, vanished.

Harry dropped to a chair, his knees suddenly giving out on him. 'Moira, are Lucy and Eric awake?'

'I don't think so.'

'Go wake them. I'll need everybody here for this.' He sat back in the chair, his eyes fixed on the woman across from him.

* * *

Kevin landed at the entrance of Knockturn Alley, suppressing a shudder as the scents of potions and other assorted unsavory items reached his nostrils. He looked down at the parchment in his hand. He knew the area, and knew a good alley to Apparate to. He swiftly turned and reappeared in a shadowed alley in a somewhat posh section of London. He took off running down the street and skidded to a stop at a townhouse, darting up the steps to the door, ignoring the stares of passerby in the street. He pounded on the door. Waited for a moment. Then pounded again, bruising his fist against the heavy wood. 'Damn it,' he growled. Nobody answered the door.

He took off for the alley once more, stopping in the shadows to catch his breath. Panting, he spun, and ended up near Percy Weasley's house. He raced to the door, and began to beat on the door, disregarding the knocker prominently in front of his face. 'Come on, come on…' he muttered.

The door opened and a woman with a great deal of curly dark blonde hair stood there. 'Can I help you?'

'I need to see Mr. Weasley!' Kevin exclaimed.

'He's not in at the moment.'

'Do you know where he is?' Kevin asked in desperation.

'Why do you need to see him?' she asked suspiciously.

'It's private,' he replied.

She sighed and looked at him. 'Who are you?'

Kevin groaned theatrically. 'Kevin Gurr. I'm an Auror trainee.'

'He's at the Ministry. Some sort of reception.'

Kevin's eyes closed. 'Thank you.' He darted back down the street and Apparated to the employee entrance of the Ministry.

A large Hit Wizard stood at the door, a list in his hand. 'Who're you?' he asked rudely.

'Kevin Gurr.'

'Kevin Gurr, Kevin Gurr…' The Hit Wizard moved a blunt forefinger down the list. 'Nope, not on the list.'

'But you don't understand, I _need_ to get in there. I have to see the Minister!' Kevin exclaimed in dismay.

'Sorry, chum, not today.'

'But I'm a Ministry employee!' protested Kevin.

'Not on the list, you don't get into the Ministry until eight this evening with this shindig breaks up.'

'Fine,' Kevin barked. 'Bloody fine!' He stalked away, grinding his teeth in frustration. He threw himself on a bench, determined to wait until eight. Which was still almost four hours away. He rubbed his forehead. _Think… How can you get around the bloody watchdog…?_ 'Visitors' entrance,' he breathed. He had a suspicion they hadn't blocked it for the reception, figuring anybody who would use it, wasn't going to be at the Ministry on a Saturday afternoon. Kevin ducked through the Leaky Cauldron and ran down the street, clutching at the stitch in his side. The disreputable telephone box stood on its corner, looking forlorn. Kevin threw himself inside, and jabbed the numbers "62442".

'Welcome to the Ministry of Magic,' the cool female voice came from the receiver. 'State your name and your business.'

'Kevin Gurr, and I'm here to see the Minister.' The small square badge fell into the coin chute. Kevin shoved it into his pocket, hoping he would be able to find Shacklebolt quickly. He didn't fancy sending a Patronus into a crowded reception, or facing Harry's ire if he did. To his elation, the telephone box began its slow descent to the Atrium.

* * *

Harry flicked his wand at the woman. '_Ennervate_,' he ground out between clenched teeth.

She lifted her head, tossing the matted grey ringlets from her face. A feral smile graced her face as she took in the man sitting across from her. 'Ah, Harry,' she said in greeting. 'Lovely to see you, as always.'

'I can't say the same about you,' he returned. Then after a pause, added, 'Skeeter.' He tried, but failed to keep his lip from curling in distaste. He kept his wand trained on the middle of the witch's forehead. 'So is it house-elves you despise? Or is it Hermione, Percy, or me?'

'Oh, Harry… Harry, truly, you must learn better interview skills than that,' she drawled. 'Don't you want to know how I've been?'

'Not really,' Harry spat. 'I want to know why you sent those letters. I want to know who else you were working with. If you cooperate, then maybe I'll let the Minister know, and you won't be put into Azkaban until your teeth fall out.' The hand not wrapped around his wand twitched and Harry clenched it into a fist. He wanted to punch her, like he had Flanagan, but he usually didn't hit women. _Although, calling that cow a woman might be taking it a bit far…_

'Kingsley's coming?' she asked brightly. 'Well, then, I just might have to wait until he gets here to talk.'

The sound of her voice was like nails on a blackboard to Harry. He jabbed his wand at her, and her mouth moved, but no sounds came from it. Harry sent a silent word of thanks to Snape. Every time he used a nonverbal spell, he remembered what Snape had shouted at him as he fled the grounds of Hogwarts that terrible night, offering advice for not only Legilimency and Occlumency, but also casting nonverbal spells. At the time, it had sounded like Snape was mocking him, but later, after the war; Harry was able to see it for what it was. Snape ended up teaching him until the very end.

He motioned to Brianna and Iain, standing in the doorway. They stepped forward, eyeing the scowling woman apprehensively. 'Go back to the house, and start checking it for protective spells. Leave the Muggle-Repelling charm, but take down the others. Take Kathleen and Andre with you.' They nodded and slipped out of the kitchen into the sitting room.

Harry sat back in his chair and gazed coolly at Rita Skeeter, saying nothing. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

* * *

Kevin flattened himself against the wall, scanning the crowd for Shacklebolt's shiny head. In the crush of people, he clung to the one feature that would be easily visible. He was standing on the other side of the room, chatting easily to a man with too much hair, and a blindingly disarming smile. Kevin began to edge slowly around the room, working his way toward Shacklebolt. When he finally reached that end of the room, he conjured a handful of small pebbles. Standing behind a pillar, he used his wand to Banish a pebble toward Shacklebolt. The first three missed, hitting a rather dumpy witch with towering pink hair. Concentrating, he sent the next two right at the back of Shacklebolt's head. When the Minister's head whipped around, Kevin gave him a small wave. Shacklebolt nodded once, and made his excuses to Michel Bergeron, the French Minister of Magic. He made his way to the pillar where Kevin hid, and grasped his elbow. 'What's going on?'

'Harry says you need to come up to Inverness. Right now.' Kevin swallowed the lump in his throat.

'Go up to my office. I'll meet you there in five minutes.' Shacklebolt waited until Kevin had slipped along the walls to the lifts. He made his way to where Percy stood with his wife, chatting to one of the wizards who helped administer O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. 'I have to go,' Shacklebolt said into Percy's ear. 'Do not tell anyone.' He gave Percy a meaningful look, and vanished into the crowd.

* * *

Andre, Kathleen, Iain, and Brianna stood in the back garden of the house. 'I can't believe they didn't put anything up,' Kathleen huffed. 'Idiots. What is it about people like that where they think they're invincible?'

Andre gave her a sideways look. 'Because they think they're so good, they can't possibly be caught.' He shrugged. 'Part of the charm, I suppose.'

'Should we go in?' Brianna wondered.

'Are you kidding me?' Iain shook his head. 'No.'

'You're too damn cautious,' Brianna argued.

'And you're too bloody impulsive,' he countered.

'Will you two just shag already?' Andre grumbled. 'You're giving me a headache.'

'What if there're spells up inside the house?' Kathleen interjected.

'Guess it couldn't hurt,' Andre said. 'But don't touch anything.'

They edged toward the rickety back door, and nudged it open. They went into the kitchen, and Kathleen began to murmur something, her wand sweeping the room. 'Nothing,' she said in disgust. 'Amateurs. Just Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in the front room, and that's dissipating.'

'There it is,' Brianna whispered. 'Where they made the letters.' She pointed to the spindly table, stacked with magazines. 'It's kind of sad… Pathetic, really.' Her gaze swept the room. 'You picture it, but it's never this bad,' she added, wrinkling her nose at the musty odor that permeated the room.

'Come on. Let's go,' Iain said softly, tugging on Brianna's sleeve. Reluctantly, she allowed Iain to tow her out of the house and into the back garden. He locked the door, and turned, Disapparating to their house.

* * *

Shacklebolt slipped into his office, where Kevin paced impatiently. 'So?'

'We have her.'

'Good.' Shacklebolt opened a cupboard and took out a set of clothing. 'I'll be right back. I'm not going up there in this getup,' he added, indicating his dress robes. He went into his private bathroom and quickly changed his clothing. He dumped the dress robes in the chair behind his desk, and grabbed the last lime-green bowler from the cupboard. He touched it with the tip of his wand and said, '_Portus_.' He held it out to Kevin, who put his hand on one side of the brim. Kevin felt a jerk behind his navel and they landed in the back garden of the Inverness house, as the others Apparated from the hideout used by Rita Skeeter and Ryan Flanagan.

Shacklebolt strode into the house and took in the sight of Rita Skeeter smiling at him with that smarmy expression on her face, her mouth working soundlessly. Shacklebolt glanced at Harry. 'Silencing charm?' Harry nodded. Shacklebolt flicked his wand lazily at Skeeter, and words bubbled forth, as if a dam had been breached.

'Kingsley, you old rogue,' she hailed him gaily. 'Naughty man, putting me under house arrest for something so insignificant.'

'Rita, you were an unregistered Animagus, for God's sake,' Shacklebolt sighed. 'I had every right to do that.'

'Oh, and then you had to prohibit me from publishing,' she tutted.

'Only because you wouldn't stop printing vile slander about people.'

'Freedom of press, darling. People want to know all about the Minister and the people he gave a free pass…'

'And your five years was up when? Two years ago?' Shacklebolt snorted.

'But nobody would print anything I wrote,' she pouted.

'For good reason,' Harry said in an undertone. 'My owl wouldn't leave droppings on it.' In a louder voice, he added, 'All right, Skeeter, you have your audience… Why?'

'Why, Harry, so impatient,' Skeeter cooed. 'How do you know it was me?'

Smirking, Harry murmured, '_Accio_ letter.' The one he'd gotten from Shacklebolt the previous day. _Has it only been since yesterday?_ Harry wondered. Harry spread the parchment on the table and flicked his wand at Skeeter. The ropes binding her arms to the chair loosened. 'Could you put her hands on the table, Andre?' Harry asked. When Skeeter's hands lay flat on the table, palms down, Harry touched a tiny flake of glittery scarlet nail varnish with the tip of his wand. '­_Gefangian_.' A ghost-like twin of the varnish rose from the parchment and glided across the table, landing snugly in a chip marring the surface of Skeeter's nails, like a piece in a jigsaw puzzle.

It was an exact match.

'That doesn't prove anything,' she sneered.

'Maybe, maybe not,' shrugged Harry. 'But Ryan Flanagan's memories do.' He flicked his wand at Skeeter, and the ropes snaked up her arms, tying them once again to the chair. 'So? Why?'

Skeeter looked from Harry to Shacklebolt to the nine trainees clustered around the table. 'That Muggle-born witch you're so thick with… She found out all my secrets. She thinks she's so bloody clever. Needed to take her down a few pegs. And that Weasley boy, he worked with her to ruin my career. Found some obscure law that made it possible to prohibit me from making a living,' she snarled. Her gaze focused on Harry. 'And I knew that eventually one of them would go to you. Oh yes, Harry, I knew that. And you'd have to look into it. You and your morals where you have to save people. And it would make your life miserable. Yes, it would. How long have you been here and away from your wife and child? Or is it children now? Flanagan told me she was pregnant.'

Harry's hand tightened on his wand so hard, bright red sparks flew from the tip.

'I've spent years on the edge of polite society because of what your friend did to me, unable to work, unable to make a decent living. Ruined, because somebody didn't like what I wrote about them.'

'It would be one thing if you wrote anything resembling the truth, Rita,' interrupted Shacklebolt. 'But the only thing you've managed to get right most of the time is the spelling of the names.'

Skeeter's eyes flicked to Shacklebolt, but she turned her attention quickly back to Harry. 'You and that Granger. I spent five years waiting for just the right moment to interfere with your lives, and she just handed it to me on a platter. Because who would ever guess that it was me, instead of some barking nutter with smoldering resentments from the war? And I have to say, when Granger had a baby, it just made the deal sweeter. Gave them something else to worry about, didn't it?'

'Flanagan,' Harry said. 'How did you get him involved with this?'

Skeeter smiled widely. 'Icing on the cake, darling. Icing on the cake. He's despised your wife for years, and if you were away, she would suffer.' She tiled her head toward the letter on the table. 'That was his idea, you see. To pull her into it. Because then you would find out about it. Almost a two for one bargain.' Her smile turned into something bordering on beatific.

'I've heard enough,' Shacklebolt said, pointing his wand at Skeeter, putting another Silencing charm on her. He swept his wand down, and his lynx Patronus sniffed the air, before loping out of the kitchen. 'Hit Wizards will be here soon,' he said.

Harry nodded. He looked at the trainees. 'Could I have a word with you lot? Outside?' Without waiting for an answer, he went into the back garden. 'How's the house over there?' he asked, when they filed out after him.

'Just a Muggle-Repelling charm,' Kathleen volunteered.

'Good. We can go over there in the morning and start collecting evidence.'

'Does this mean we're done?' Eric asked.

'What do you mean "we"? You've only been here a week!' teased Kevin.

'Yes, we're done.' Harry let his shoulders slump with exhaustion.

'So when we're done with the evidence collection, we can go home?' asked Brianna hopefully.

'Yeah. After we close up this house. Clean it, take off any charms we put on it. You should all be home this time tomorrow.'

'Oh, thank Merlin,' sighed Iain. 'I can sleep in a real bed again.' He looked back into the kitchen. 'Do we have to go back in? She kind of gives me…' He shook his head. 'Makes me want to smack her.'

'No, you don't have to.' Harry looked at the nine trainees. 'In fact, go out. Get some food. Get sloshed if you want to. Just be back here before midnight, and please don't get yourselves arrested. You've earned it.' The trainees looked at him askance. 'No, really. Go.'

'What about you?' Kathleen asked.

'I'm fine here. I'll stay with Kingsley until the Hit Wizards come, then I'm going to go to bed. Don't wake me up when you get back, either.'

'Are you sure?' Brianna piped up.

'I'm sure. Go before I change my mind and we go deal with the evidence when she leaves.'

The trainees headed toward the gate, and left, going toward the center of the city, good-naturedly arguing about what to have for dinner, and if they should find a club for a spot of dancing later. Harry watched them leave, and waited until the garden gate swung shut. He closed his eyes. Home. Even if it was back to the hospital with Ginny, it was still home. He twisted his wedding ring off, and held it up to the afternoon sunlight.

_Faith. Hope. Love._

The words soothed him after hearing Skeeter's answers. He slid it back onto his finger and went back inside to wait for the Hit Wizards to take Rita Skeeter away.

* * *

A/N: I think there's one chapter left after this. Maybe two.


	28. Endings and Beginnings

Harry walked back into the kitchen of the house with a sigh. He couldn't wait for MLE to come collect Skeeter, for Shacklebolt to leave, and to finally have the house to himself. There was Muggle money in his knapsack. Maybe he could get some takeaway and have a long, hot soak in the bathtub. He knew the trainees wouldn't be back for hours, so he could stay in the bath until he turned wrinkly and then some.

He noticed Skeeter was slumped against her binds. 'Stunned her?'

Shacklebolt nodded. 'She kept eyeing my bum,' he said with a shudder.

'Can't blame you'

Shacklebolt indicated Skeeter. 'As soon as they take her away, you and I need to talk.'

Harry wrinkled his nose. 'About?'

'It's nothing serious.' Shacklebolt waved off Harry's obvious anxiety. 'Just something I'll need you to think about while you're on suspension. Which, by the way, will start effective the moment you put the final report for this on my desk.'

'Believe me; it'll be on your desk as soon as I can get it written.'

Multiple _pops_ in the back garden made Harry turn his head and look out the window. Six Hit Wizards had just Apparated into the garden, then filed into the kitchen. The leader, who had taken Flanagan to Azkaban, was with this group. 'Och. I see ye've got another 'en for Azkaban, then.'

'Yeah. She's got anti-Apparition and anti-Transfiguration jinxes on her.' Harry rubbed at the knots in the back of his neck.

'Why the Transfiguration jinx?' called out one of the wizards.

'She's an unregistered Animagus. Make sure you put a strong one on her cell.' Harry flicked his wand at Skeeter, and the ropes binding her to the chair disappeared. One of the Hit Wizards grasped her elbow, hauling her upright. Skeeter's head flopped back, exposing her face to the Hit Wizards.

'Ravenclaw's bleeding knockers!' exclaimed one of the wizards. 'It's bleeding Rita Skeeter!' he gasped.

'Yer powers o' observation kill me,' the leader said dryly. 'Ye'll hae ta forgive tha wee lad,' he told Harry and Shacklebolt. 'He's new.' He reached over and cuffed the rather large young man on the back of his head. 'Try an' keep a decent tongue in yer mouth, ye great muckle fool.'

Two Hit Wizards carted Skeeter out to the back, while Shacklebolt rummaged for a bit of rubbish to use as a Portkey. They milled around the back garden for a few minutes while Shacklebolt, Harry, and the lead Hit Wizard conferred briefly. The leader carried an old issue of the _Prophet_ out to the others. 'All righ' then,' he called. 'We'll be leavin' in a few, so put a finger on tha paper, aye?' He glanced at Harry over his shoulder. 'Good job, lad.'

Harry nodded. 'Thanks,' he replied, as the group disappeared in a whirl of color. He turned to Shacklebolt. 'All right, what did you want to talk about?'

Shacklebolt jabbed his wand at the refrigerator in the kitchen, and two bottles of butterbeer flew out and landed neatly in their hands. 'Have a seat,' he said to Harry, uncorking his own bottle. He took a long drink and dropped to the low wall. 'So Gibson's retiring next year,' he said nonchalantly.

'I heard,' Harry said shrugging.

'I want you to take her place.'

Harry spewed a mouthful of butterbeer over his boots. Gaping at Shacklebolt, dripping butterbeer, he choked, 'What?'

Smiling, Shacklebolt sipped his butterbeer. 'I want you to be the new Head Auror.'

'B-b-b-but I'm not _old_ enough!'

'You've been an Auror for how long now? Eight years? The others don't have a problem working with you, or even taking orders from you. Even Aurors who were part of the department before you came on.'

'You're mad,' Harry muttered, shaking his head. 'You're bloody mad.'

'I was planning on waiting until the end of the year to bring it up, but you handled this so beautifully. It was a good idea to use trainees from the beginning. They're all going to be better Aurors for it.' Shacklebolt stretched his feet out in front of him.

'I was just trying to use hands-on training.' Harry took a long pull from his bottle, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jumper. 'There's others in the department who've been there longer who could be Head.'

'True. But none of them are you.'

'Don't go there, Kingsley,' growled Harry. 'No special treatment.'

'I just meant that none of the others approach things the way you do. You collaborate, not just delegate. You spent just as much time out there as the trainees. You organized everything about this and you kept your personal feelings out of it as much as possible.' Kingsley coughed. 'Well, except for that one incident with Flanagan… But totally understandable.'

'I don't know, Kingsley.'

'You needn't give me an answer right away. Go discuss it with Ginny when you get home. Take your time.'

Harry fiddled with the label on his bottle, peeling it off in strips. 'What would I have to do? If I took the job,' he added hastily.

'Same thing as you did with this one. Organize the investigation. Well, you'd oversee multiple investigations, but not do the field work. Supervise it of course, check up on it. But not be out here the entire time.' Shacklebolt leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 'Sometimes, if there's more than one department involved, like working with the Obliviators, you'd have to be there to coordinate with their Head. All things considered, it's not really any more work than you do now. You'd still have to keep up with your probation list.'

'Damn, I was hoping I could drop that one off…' Harry took a swig of his drink. He watched the shadows lengthen across the garden. 'Can I think about it?' he asked softly.

'I'd think you were barking if you didn't. It's a huge step.' Shacklebolt finished his butterbeer, and clapped Harry on the back. 'When you and Ginny get a chance to breathe, see how she feels about it. Gibson's not set to retire until next spring, so you've got some time.' Shacklebolt set his empty bottle down on the wall and strolled around the garden. 'But I need to know soon, so I can start handing some of the other duties over to you. Smoother transition for all of you.'

Harry snorted. 'Better the devil you know and all that rubbish?'

'Something like that.' Shacklebolt Summoned the empty bottle and made it into a Portkey. 'Burn that bloody bowler, would you? It's the last one…'

Harry grinned. 'Gladly. If I never see another lime-green bowler…' He took another sip of his butterbeer. 'I'll let you know when I come back to work in August.'

'That's fine. See you in a few days, then.' Shacklebolt disappeared.

Harry upended his bottle and drained the last of the butterbeer. He lobbed it toward the rubbish bin and walked back into the silent house.

* * *

Ginny closed the back door behind Molly and Arthur with a relieved sigh. Bill had left about an hour after he arrived, but Molly insisted on cooking dinner, doing the washing up, supervising James' bath, putting James to bed, and making up the cot for Albus. She had even sent Arthur off before dinner to buy groceries, so now the pantry was completely stocked. She leaned her back against the closed door, and looked at Albus in a carrycot on the table. 'Well, it's just you and me now.' Albus cooed in response. 'Oh, so you're awake now?' Ginny quickly fixed a cup of tea and dropped into a chair. 'So how do you like the place so far?' Albus had worked one of his hands free from the blanket and opened and closed it a few times. 'That much, eh?' She took a few sips of tea. 'It's generally not this barmy; with Grandmum going to and fro like she was today.' Albus blinked slowly. 'Okay, I'm lying. Sort of. Your dad and James get a little hyper sometimes. Especially when the weather's bad and they're cooped up inside. And then if Teddy's here, all bets are off.' Albus' hand rubbed against his cheek. 'Oh, Teddy is your dad's godson. He's over here lots, but I think you'll like him.'

Ginny finished her tea and picked up the carrycot. She looked down at the baby. 'If you don't mind, I'm going to have a shower. I need to clean up a bit.' Albus yawned widely. 'Right, I can tell it's just too exciting for you.' She slowly went up the stairs. 'I'm just going to take a peek at James. Just to make sure he's sleeping.' Ginny set the carrycot down outside James' door and tiptoed into the dimly lit bedroom. James was sound asleep in his cot. Ginny leaned on the top rail of the cot for a moment, watching him sleep. She bent down and brushed her lips over his sleep-flushed cheek. 'I really have missed you,' she whispered. 'Things are going to be a bit different around here, you know,' she told him, running her hand over his feathery hair. 'Just because we'll have to take extra special care of your baby brother for a while, it doesn't mean we've forgotten about you, sweetie.' Ginny rested her cheek on her folded arms. 'I just hope Daddy comes home soon. I love your grandmum, but having her come by every day is going to make me nutters,' she confessed.

She straightened and went back into the corridor, picking up Albus. 'Okay, I'm going to put you in the cradle for a mo. Don't worry; I won't be more than a few minutes.' She tucked him into the cradle next to the bed, and hurried to the bathroom. As she ducked under the spray and hastily gave herself a sketchy wash, she found herself repeating her wish that Harry would be back soon. At least she could take a shower that lasted more than two minutes. Maybe upwards of five. Chuckling, Ginny turned off the water, and wrapped a towel around her body. She peered into the cradle as she pulled on the nightdress that buttoned up the front.

'Are you hungry?' she asked Albus. 'Think you might want to try?' She lifted him from the cradle and settled against the pillows in the bed. As Albus began nursing, Ginny was struck by how quiet it was in the house. After two weeks of living in a hospital with all its ambient sounds and having at least one other person in the room with her, it was slightly odd for it to just be her and the baby. She looked down at Albus cradled in her arms. The big, empty, insanely quiet house didn't bother her. It was being alone with Albus for the first time that scared her a little.

There were still a million things that could go wrong. Hundreds of "what if" questions ran through her head. What if he stopped breathing and she couldn't get him to breathe again? What if his heartbeat stopped? What if he stopped eating or gaining weight? Albus had come home with a whole host of issues that James hadn't had.

Having done this before didn't necessarily make it easier this time around.

Harry woke up flailing slightly. The scullery was flooded with light that blinded him temporarily. He shoved his glasses on his nose and sat up, looking at his watch. It was ten. Harry didn't remember the last time he'd slept until ten in the morning. He swung his feet to the floor and stood up, opening the door. He was greeted by the sight of all nine trainees sitting at the table. 'It's about bloody time you woke up,' Iain said brightly.

'Because the sooner we do the other house, then this one, the sooner we can all go home.' Brianna handed him a cup of coffee.

'How long have you been up?' Harry asked bewildered. He hadn't heard them come in last night. He had gone to bed before nine.

'What is it? Ten?' Andre said. 'Since eight. We've been ready to go for an hour.'

'If you slept much longer we were going to set off the Deflagraton Deluxe in Benjamin's bag in the back garden.' Kathleen added dryly.

'Funny.' Harry ran his hands through his hair. 'Will it kill you lot to wait for fifteen more minutes?'

Kevin sighed dramatically. 'I don't know. It might.'

Harry disappeared into the scullery for a moment, then came back with a bundle of clothing. 'Give me ten minutes.' He dashed through a shower and came back into the kitchen, his clothes sticking to his still damp skin, hair dripping, slurping the cup of coffee Brianna had handed him.

'You could have taken an extra thirty seconds to dry off,' Iain drawled sardonically.

'Sod off, Iain,' Harry growled, but a smile teased around his mouth. 'The sooner we're done here, the sooner we can go home, right?' One of the trainees Summoned a pair of clean socks and lobbed them at him. 'Can I eat breakfast first?' Another pair of hands shoved a bacon sandwich in his other hand. 'All right, all right, I get the hint.' He gobbled the sandwich down and drank the rest of the coffee, trying to put his socks on one-handed. He grabbed his boots and shoved his feet into them, flicking his wand at the laces. 'All right, let's go.'

They took turns Apparating to the back garden of the house Flanagan and Skeeter had used. When all of the trainees joined Harry in the back, he pointed his wand at the door. 'You're sure there's nothing more sinister up than a Muggle-Repelling charm?'

'Yes,' Kathleen assured him.

'You won't mind if I do another check?' Harry flicked his wand at the door.

'Do we have a choice?' muttered Andre.

'Not really,' Harry shot back. Satisfied that the house was safe, he opened the door and walked inside. He stopped in the doorway that led to the room where the rickety table stood. Piles of dusty magazines littered the floor. Dust motes floated in the air, dancing in the rays of sunshine that streamed through the single window. 'Andre, get some photographs before we box all this up.' Andre pulled a camera from his pocket and began to move about the room and take pictures of the room. 'When he's done, I'll conjure some cartons and we'll put the magazines in them. Use your wands. I don't want you touching anything.' Harry sneezed explosively a few times, as the dust that lay about the room tickled his nose.

'What about the residue from the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder?' Lucy asked.

'I'll get you a vial, and you can put some of it in there.' Harry made a mental note to go through the joke shop's invoices when he got home to see who had ordered any of it in the last eight months.

'I'm done,' Andre announced.

'Brilliant.' Harry conjured several cartons. 'Don't try to pick up the whole stack at once. Just put a few in at a time.' He waved his wand again, and plucked a small glass vial out of the air, handing it to Lucy. 'Use _Accio_, but tap the opening of the vial with your wand. Residue ought to go into the vial.'

It didn't take very long until all the magazines had been packed away in the cartons. Harry led the trainees into the back and turned around to look at the house. He lifted his wand and removed the Muggle-Repelling charm. 'Let's go get packed up, eh?' The trainees Disapparated and Harry stood gazing at the back of the house. He could feel a little of the tension that had taken up residence in his shoulders since January vanish. One of his hands curled into a fist and he let himself relive the moment his fist had collided with Flanagan's face. He then pictured once more smashing it into Rita Skeeter's face. Smirking, he thought, ­_I know I'm not supposed to hit women, but God, it would feel so damn good. _He hadn't understood the depth of her animosity toward him when he had her put under house arrest less than a year after the war ended. Nor could he have predicted she would spend the next several years nurturing it. He turned his back to the house. _Can't ever let myself underestimate anyone ever again._ Closing his eyes, he Disapparated.

* * *

'So why does she hate you so much?' Kathleen asked. She was leaning against the doorframe to the scullery, while Harry folded his clothes and shoved them into his knapsack.

'Who? Rita Skeeter?'

'Yes.'

Harry snorted. 'I'm a lousy interview.'

'Seriously?' Kathleen cocked an incredulous eyebrow.

'Partially.' Harry checked the pockets of the knapsack for his spare glasses. 'The first time she interviewed me was when I was fourteen. I was most uncooperative.' He grinned slightly. 'To say the least.' Harry picked up the knapsack and carried it out to the kitchen. 'I tried to avoid her as much as I could after the war. You should have seen the story she wrote about Ron, Hermione, and me.' Harry shook his head. 'She implied that Ron and Hermione were having illicit rendezvous, and Hermione was only out to break my heart.' Kathleen's other eyebrow rose in question. 'No. It wasn't true.'

Harry returned to the scullery and flicked his wand at the camp bed. It folded itself and shrank. Harry tucked it into one of the pockets of the knapsack and began to cast Scouring charms around the scullery. He looked at Kathleen over his shoulder. 'Are you packed?'

'Yes.'

'What about Lucy, Brianna, and Moira?'

'Yes.'

'Your room cleaned?'

'Yes,' Moira chimed in. 'We're just waiting for the boys.'

'Has anyone cleaned the bathroom yet?' Brianna craned her head around the door into the kitchen.

'I did it already,' Iain said, dumping his bag on the kitchen floor. 'Somebody needs to go do the sitting room.'

'Is your wand broken?' retorted Brianna.

'Seriously. You two just need to get it over with and shag later.' Harry closed the scullery door. He looked at the two trainees, who were blushing furiously. 'I could make it an order,' he said lightly.

'Minor abuse of power,' commented Andre, dropping his bag next to Iain's. 'But if it'll get those two to stop bickering, I'm all for it.'

'Sod off…' muttered Iain, flushing a shade of red that Harry thought wouldn't be out of place on a Weasley.

'Somebody just go put a few charms on the bloody sitting room,' sighed Kathleen.

Harry motioned the interns to move with a hand. 'Stand aside,' he said. '_Scourgify maximus_,' he murmured, pointing his wand through the open door. A bright blue jet of light shot out of the tip of his wand into the sitting room. He looked at the astonished trainees with a shrug. 'You learn how to do that quickly enough when your wife's been gone for a week, and you descended into levels of slovenliness that you haven't seen since you were fifteen, and she's due home in less than ten minutes.' He bent to pick up his knapsack. 'Not unless you want to sleep on the sofa for a week.'

He went out into the garden, waiting until all the trainees were with him. 'All right. Bree, Kevin, think of this as your final exam. Take down all the protective charms on the house. And the Anti-Apparition jinxes on the inside.' He gestured to the back door, and the two third-year trainees gulped a little, and went inside.

Harry perched on the edge of the low wall, crossing his arms over his chest. In a few minutes they came out of the house, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder as they removed the protective charms from the house. Turning as one, the looked at Harry expectantly and he waved his wand at the house. If anything was left up, the house would glow softly.

Nothing happened.

'Good job.' Harry stood up, retrieving his knapsack from the ground. '_Accio_,' he murmured, and his empty butterbeer bottle from last night flew into his hand. He tapped it with his wand. '_Portus_. Get a finger on it. We're going to the training room.' A few seconds later, Harry felt the sickening jerk behind his navel and then they were standing in the trainees' room on Level Two of the Ministry, jostling each other to stay upright. 'Eric, Benjamin, just put those cartons on the table. I'll take care of them in a bit.' He looked at the tired faces of his trainees and gave them a smile. 'You all did a brilliant job. Go home.' He turned to leave the room and go to his office. 'And take the next week off,' he added over his shoulder.

'Harry?' Brianna's voice stopped him. 'Thanks… For not giving up on us.'

Harry cleared his throat. 'Thank you. For not giving up on me.' He was startled when Brianna gave him a brief hug. Harry, who kept most people at arm's length, other than the Weasleys, weakly patted her on the back. Lucy, Moira, and Kathleen gave him warm smiles and shook his hand. Iain, Andre, Eric, Kevin, and Benjamin each gave him what he thought of as the male substitute for emotive displays: the slap on the shoulder, as they gave him a brief handshake. They filed down the corridor to the lifts, chatting quietly. Harry blew out a long breath and shook his head.

He went down the corridor and unlocked his office. Harry pushed the door open and felt a little more of the tension leave his shoulders, as he went back down to the trainees' room. He pointed his wand at the cartons. '_Wingardium leviosa_.' They rose in the air and Harry guided them out of the room, and into his office. He set them down neatly in a corner of the office. Shacklebolt could come get them whenever he wanted, but Harry knew he wouldn't start anything on Flanagan or Skeeter's trials until Harry's suspension was over. Sitting at his desk, he flicked his wand at the open door. '_Accio_ knapsack.' It flew into his hands, and he set it down on the floor next to his desk.

Harry pulled his thick notebook out of the knapsack, and began the long process of writing his final report to Shacklebolt.

Nearly seven hours later, Harry shook the cramp from his hand. He supposed he could have used a quill that would write down what he said, but Harry supposed he still had deep-seated prejudices against things like that. He preferred to write everything down manually. It was a guarantee that nothing would be put down in a way he didn't intend. He had even added the trip he took four hours ago to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes to go through the invoices from the last year. They hadn't sold Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to anyone in over a year. Harry also had added that it was perfectly legal for him to search the invoices on his own, without proper Ministry paperwork in triplicate, as he was a part-owner of the shop. Harry sealed the horribly long scroll of parchment and tucked the notebook back into his bag. He swung the bag over his shoulder and picked up the parchment.

After he dropped the scroll off on Shacklebolt's desk, Harry went to the lifts and jabbed the button for the Atrium. It was after ten, and he couldn't wait to see Ginny. He lifted his right wrist, and examined the bracelet. _St. Mungo's, then, _he told himself. He trudged toward an Apparition point and turned, reappearing outside the entrance of the hospital.

Harry got through the window, and slipped down the hidden corridor to the maternity/neonatal wing. His pace quickened with anticipation as he slipped through the double doors and went down the corridor. 'Ginny, I'm… Home…' died on his lips as he took in the unoccupied room. He glanced at the number plate next to the door. It was the correct room, but Ginny's name wasn't in the card holder. Turning his head, Harry took a quick look at the room where Albus had been. His name was no longer in the card holder, either. Confused, Harry pelted down to the receptionist's desk. 'Where's Ginny Potter? And Albus Potter?' he demanded.

The witch glanced up at Harry. 'And you are…?'

'Her husband,' Harry said impatiently.

She took out Ginny's file and opened it. 'She went home yesterday. Both her and Albus were discharged.'

'Thank you,' Harry breathed. He darted to the Apparition point and went to the Burrow.

Harry opened the gate to the back garden, and stood in the darkness. Most of the house was dark and still, but a light glowed dimly in the kitchen. Harry took a few steps closer. Molly was quietly preparing a cup of tea. Harry's feet took him automatically to the back door, and his hand pulled it open. Molly turned in surprise as the door creaked softly. 'Harry!' she gasped. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. 'Are you home for good?' she asked worriedly.

'Yeah.' Harry returned the embrace.

'Are you hungry, dear?'

Harry started to say no, but his stomach growled. 'Uh, I guess I am,' he replied sheepishly.

'Sit yourself down then.' Molly was already flicking her wand around making sandwiches and soup appear on the table. Harry hungrily wolfed a sandwich down before he could protest at the amount of food. 'Stay right there, dear.' Molly hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She burst into her bedroom, and shook Arthur awake. 'Arthur, Arthur, wake up, Harry's home!'

'Tha's good,' Arthur mumbled, still half-asleep.

Neither of them wondered why Harry was here, instead of his and Ginny's house in Godric's Hollow.

Harry had just started on his second bowl of soup when Molly and Arthur came into the kitchen. 'I thought I'd sleep in Percy's room tonight, if that's all right. Let Ginny get some sleep,' he told them.

'Why would you want to sleep in Percy's room?' Arthur asked.

'Well, I went by the hospital and they said Ginny and Albus had been discharged, and it's a bit late, so I thought I'd just sleep elsewhere tonight. I don't want to wake her up.'

Molly and Arthur exchanged looks. 'She's not here, dear.'

Harry looked up. 'Where is she?'

'At _your_ house,' Arthur said.

Harry's mouth dropped open, and he pushed the chair away from the table, getting up so quickly, it fell to the floor. Without saying another word, he snatched up his knapsack and bolted out the door for the garden gate.


	29. No Place Like Home

Ginny flopped into bed, groaning softly as she began to relax. It had been a horribly long day. James woke up at six that morning, and refused to leave Ginny's side all day. Even when she tried to nurse Albus, James insisted on plastering himself to her side. He hadn't shown any outright jealousy of Albus, but it was still early, and James seemed to be taking it all in stride, as long as Ginny didn't leave his line of sight. But that had meant Ginny had to take Albus with her everywhere, either in his sling, or in the carrycot. And James followed her everywhere. She didn't even get to use the loo on her own. She badly needed to take a shower. James had flung butterscotch pudding all over the kitchen, and she could feel a dried streak of it in her hair. She was covered in dried milk; the remnants of James' lunch and dinner, and felt grubbier than a body had a right to feel. Albus had been fussy most of the afternoon, refusing to nurse, and Ginny's increasingly frantic attempts hadn't helped. It just stressed them each even more.

Ginny was exhausted. She remembered how tiring it had been when they brought James home, but this was worse. She turned her head, and peeked into the carrycot on the bed. Albus was asleep, as was James. 'It's now or never,' she murmured, hauling herself off the bed, and trudging into the bathroom. Like last night, she rushed through a shower, grateful she had kept her hair short. It was much faster to wash. All too soon, she stepped out of the tub, and pulled the clean nightdress sitting on the bathroom counter over her head. 'It's not going to stay clean for long,' she grumbled. Albus was whimpering in the carrycot. He hadn't quite started crying yet, but his chirping grew more and more insistent. It was only a matter of time before he did start crying. She lifted Albus from the carrycot and settled against the pillows stacked against the headboard. 'Shhhh,' she crooned, shifting Albus against her breast. He latched on with a ferocity Ginny hadn't seen before. 'Ow. That hurt,' she informed him. He ignored her, and continued to eat with single-minded focus. Ginny traced his sketchy eyebrow with a fingertip. It followed the arch of Harry's. Albus opened his eyes, and Ginny wished, not for the first time, that Harry's parents hadn't died. She would have loved to ask them about Harry as a baby, to compare Albus to Harry with Lily. It was a large portion of Harry's life that was largely lost to them. The few photographs they had didn't do it justice.

Albus' head rolled away from her breast, and Ginny tried to wake him to no avail. He was sound asleep, and likely to stay that way for at least two hours. He could sleep up to three at a time, before hunger prodded him to wakefulness. She used an old, but clean, nappy to wipe the milk outlining his mouth and carefully shifted him to her shoulder, where she doggedly patted his back until he burped and settled back into sleep. Ginny swung her feet off the bed, and gently laid Albus in the cradle. She dimmed the lamp, so it cast a soft glow over the room, and collapsed into the bed, falling asleep almost as soon as her eyes drifted shut.

* * *

Harry appeared outside the back garden of his house, silently cursing Ginny. He glanced up at the dark windows, and jogged to the side of the house where their bedroom was. He could see a faint light struggle its way through the gauzy curtains. 'What possessed you to come home?' he muttered. 'You were supposed to go back to the Burrow. Stubborn…' He went to retrieve his knapsack and tested the wards. She had left them up. 'At least she had enough sense to do that,' Harry grumbled and walked into the kitchen. It smelt strongly of butterscotch, but Harry didn't stop to wonder why. He continued through the door into the sitting room, and dropped the knapsack at the bottom of the stairs and swiftly went up the stairs to their bedroom. He stopped to look in on James, and stood in the doorway, just watching Ginny sleep. She lay curled on one side, on top of the quilt. Harry pointed his wand at his boots and they unlaced themselves. It wasn't something he did often, since it was just as easy to do it by hand. He toed them off, and tiptoed to the bed, and climbed into it, next to Ginny. Harry scooted closer to her, so his knees touched hers. Not thinking, he pulled her body to his, so she draped over him, and began to press kisses to her cheeks and lips.

Ginny didn't function well on sleep deprivation, and when she woke up to the sensation of someone in her bed, her eyes remained shut, but her knee shot up, and with unerring accuracy, connected solidly with Harry's balls. The gurgling moan in her ear, made her open her eyes. 'Harry!' she exclaimed, when she saw his face, mere inches from hers, contorted in eddy of pain.

'Geroff!' he wheezed.

Ginny scrambled off Harry, who immediately curled into a ball, his hands clasped over his abused anatomy. 'Oh, sweet Godric,' she breathed. 'I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was you!'

'Urrrrrrrrrrrrrr,' he replied, painfully removing one hand, and waving it at her, panting.

'Are you all right?' Ginny knelt next to Harry's coiled form.

'Mmmmmm.' He gritted his teeth and opened his eyes. Ginny's face hovered anxiously over his.

'Shall I kiss it and make it better?' she asked impishly. Harry's eyes narrowed. Now was not the time to make jokes. 'Well if you had just woken me up like normal people, we wouldn't have to worry about whether or not Albie is our last.'

'Not funny,' he gasped hoarsely. 'Just give me a minute…'

At that moment with exquisite timing, James began to wail in his cot. 'I'll go get him,' Ginny said, kissing the tip of Harry's exposed ear. James was sitting up in the cot, fat tears rolling down his face. 'What's the matter then, sweetie?' Ginny crooned, reaching into the cot. She lifted James into her arms, and he burrowed against her, his face pressed against her neck.

'Mummeeeee,' he whimpered.

'I've got a surprise for you,' she told James. 'Guess who's here?' She carried him to the doorway of the bedroom, and set him on the floor. 'Look, Jemmy,' she whispered, pointing to the bed.

James glanced up and his eyes widened, and he started running toward the bed. 'Dahdeeeee!' he screeched, stumbling to a stop at Harry's side of the wide bed. 'Dahdee, up!' he demanded.

Harry lifted his head stiffly, and came face to face with his eldest son's wide blue eyes. Groaning slightly, he reached down and grasped the back of James' t-shirt, hauling him up to sit by him on the bed. 'Hiya, mate,' he said.

James straddled Harry's stomach, and bounced excitedly on his diaphragm. 'Dahdeedahdeedahdee,' he chanted.

'Oof!' Harry grunted. 'James, stop… Daddy can't breathe…' he gasped, grabbing James by the waist, and pulling him off his stomach. Harry flipped the quilt back, and tucked it over James. 'Go back to sleep, there's a good boy,' he murmured, patting James' back. James shifted a few times and turned over on his stomach and fell asleep, his head resting on Harry's shoulder.

'You're not going to sleep at all in those jeans,' Ginny commented kneeling on the foot of the bed.

'I've got a two year-old pinning me to the mattress,' he replied, one hand still cupped over his groin. 'I don't think I'll be moving any time soon.'

Ginny crawled up the bed, and came to a stop next to Harry. 'Want some help?' she asked, her hands suspended over the button of his jeans.

'As long as you don't kick me again,' he quipped.

Ginny's mouth twisted wryly. 'Keep that up, and I'll Stun you and take you to the hospital, and they can do a little spell Shanti told me about. Albus will definitely be our last.'

Harry's eyes widened comically. 'You wouldn't!'

Ginny batted his hand away from the flies of his jeans. She didn't answer, and proceeded to work Harry's jeans off with a smirk and dropped them on the floor next to the bed. Harry wriggled until he could slide his legs under the bedding, and Ginny slipped under the quilt on the other side. She heard the tell-tale whimpers drift from the cradle, and sighed, sitting up so she could pick up Albus. She unbuttoned the nightdress and positioned the baby against her breast. She looked over at Harry, watching her, his bright green eyes cloudy with drowsiness. 'Not quite the homecoming you imagined, eh?' she asked softly.

'Not really.' His eyes swept the bed; taking in James sprawled between them, Ginny nursing the baby. 'I actually pictured something a lot more romantic,' he added.

'Yeah…'

'I wouldn't trade it for anything, though,' Harry murmured, turning his head to brush a kiss over James' hair. 'But this is pretty good, too.' He shifted to his side, and reached over with his free hand, brushing his fingertips over Ginny's arm. 'Nearly perfect.'

* * *

Harry woke up with one of James' feet pressed against the side of his face. 'How does he sleep like that?' he muttered.

'You do that,' Ginny snorted. 'The first time I spent the night with you, you were all over the bed.'

'I did not!'

'Yes, you did.' Ginny picked up Albus and carried him into his nursery. 'You can put James in his cot, if you want. I'll get him up later.'

Harry eased out of bed, and opened a bureau drawer for a pair of pajama bottoms. He pulled them on and turned to pick James up from the bed. He took James to his room, and laid him in the cot. 'Harry?' Ginny's voice came from the room across the corridor. 'Could you look in the cupboard, and bring me a few clean nappies? I didn't get a chance to restock the changing table in here yesterday.'

'Sure, Gin.' He padded down to the end of the corridor and opened the cupboard and reached for a stack of nappies. As he pulled them off the shelf, he knocked a canvas carrier bag over. Frowning, he picked it up, and examined it, not recognizing it as one of the ones that belonged to them.

'Harry! Seriously need a nappy in here!'

He jumped and shut the cupboard door, taking the stack of nappies to Ginny, who grabbed one from the top and swiftly wrapped it around Albus, pinning it one handed. 'Gin, what's that bag in the cupboard?'

'What bag?' she muttered distractedly, settling into the rocking chair to feed Albus.

'Canvas, with blue trim and handles?'

'Oh, that one. It's Katie's. I wondered where Mum put it Saturday. I need to take it back to Katie before I forget.'

Harry stowed the rest of the nappies under the changing table. 'It's got some things in it.'

'Could you take them out and put the bag downstairs? Otherwise, I'll forget we've got it, and Katie'll get it back when the boys start school.'

'What do you want me to do with the things inside?' Harry started for the cupboard.

'Just put them in our room.'

Harry opened the cupboard and took out the bag, rummaging through it as he walked to their bedroom. Most of it was unremarkable. A few magazines, a book, some clothes, a bottle of bright red nail varnish. The plain, leather-bound book caught his eye. It stood out in a bag full of rather ordinary items. He tossed the nail varnish into a drawer in the bathroom, and dumped the rest of the items on the foot of the bed. The leather-bound book flopped open. When Harry picked it up, he saw the pages were covered in lines of Ginny's round, loopy handwriting. 'What the…?' It was a journal from the two weeks she spent in the hospital.

'Want breakfast?' Ginny was standing in the doorway, buttoning the front of her nightdress.

Harry started guiltily and dropped the journal on the bed as if it had bitten him. 'I'll do it,' he said quickly.

Ginny trailed after him as he ran down the stairs. 'It's all right if you read that,' she called after him.

'Read what?' He was standing at the stove, preparing to cook eggs and sausages.

'The journal. I was going to let you read it when you came home anyway.' Ginny pulled plates from the cupboard and began to set the table. 'When do you have to be at the Ministry?'

'Four weeks.'

Ginny stood next to the table, a fork suspended in midair. 'What?'

'Four weeks. I've been suspended.'

She laid the fork on the table carefully. 'Pardon me?'

Harry turned the sausages over, and looked back at Ginny. 'Where do I start?'

'Try the beginning,' she retorted, making tea.

'We caught them,' he began.

'Obviously.'

'Flanagan was working with Skeeter. When we captured him last Wednesday, I, uh, sort of punched him in the face…'

'Bravo,' she applauded. 'I wish I could have seen it.' She piled slices of bread in the toaster.

'So, I suspended myself for two weeks, and when Kingsley came up, he added two more weeks.'

Ginny poured boiling water over the tea leaves in the pot. 'He forced you to take a vacation.'

Harry dished eggs and sausages on a platter, and carried it to the table. 'Something like that.' He took the toast and put it on a plate. 'So while the boys are still asleep, we have to talk about something…'

Ginny's brows knit over the rim of her teacup. 'All right…' She put the cup down in its saucer carefully.

Harry was busily buttering a slice of toast. 'It's just… Kingsley wants to make me Head.'

'Told you,' Ginny replied smugly.

'I need to give him an answer so he can start transitioning me when I get back next month.'

'Okay…'

'He said I ought to talk to you.'

'Wise man.'

Harry poked at his breakfast. 'Well?'

Ginny began to eat her eggs. 'Well, what?'

'What do you think?' Harry sighed in exasperation. 'Should I accept it?'

'It's rather up to you, isn't it?'

'I want to know how you feel about it.' Harry laid his fork down. 'If you don't want me to take it, I won't.'

Ginny bit her lip. 'I don't want you to not take this because of any misgivings I might have. I want you to do this because it's what you want.' She paused and took a sip of her tea. 'Do you want to do this?'

'Yeah, I do…' Harry confessed.

'What would you have to do?' Ginny asked.

Harry shrugged. 'Pretty much the same thing I do now. Supervise all ongoing investigations and the trainees. My probation list. Coordinate with other Heads if we're on the same case. No field work, like now, though.'

'I'm all for that,' Ginny muttered. 'Would it make you happy?'

Harry heaved a sigh and toyed with his food. 'Maybe.'

Ginny spread marmalade on her toast. 'Listen… I'd rather have you happy and busy, than unhappy, but with a lot of time on your hands.' She reached across the table and took one of Harry's hands. 'Do it. If you want to do it, then I won't try and stop you.' She ate her toast quietly for a moment. 'So Flanagan…?'

'Let me fill you in,' Harry told her. 'You'll never believe it.' He proceeded to tell her the entire story; from the night Ron came to see him to the previous day. 'So I went to the hospital after I finished my report and they told me you'd gone home, and then I went to the Burrow.' Harry took a long sip of his tea. 'Why did you come here? You were _supposed_ to be with your mum and dad,' he said pointedly.

'Honestly?'

'Sure.'

'I just wanted to come home.'

'You were supposed to be with your parents until I came home…' Harry repeated.

'Why is it so important to you that I didn't come back here alone with the boys?'

Harry picked up the dishes and took them to the sink, and began to wash them. 'You got one. Friday. From Flanagan. Well, he started it, and Skeeter delivered it.'

'There wasn't one here Saturday afternoon…' Ginny mused.

'She took it to the Burrow.'

'Oh, so I was so much safer there,' Ginny said caustically. She picked up the remaining dishes and took them to Harry. 'I left the wards up, and nobody but you or me knew how to get through them. And honestly, Mum and Dad were here most of the afternoon and evening Saturday. I didn't even leave the house at all yesterday.'

'I know,' he sighed. 'I just didn't want you to be by yourself.'

Ginny wrapped her arms around his waist. 'Believe me. After the last six weeks, I _wanted_ some time by myself.' She paused. 'Well, as much as you can have with a newborn and a toddler.'

'I take it that's not very much.'

'Not at all.' Ginny rose on her toes to kiss Harry's cheek. James had woken up and could be heard calling for them from upstairs. 'Maybe now that you're back, I can go to the loo by myself.'

* * *

The next several days eased into a sort of pattern for Harry and Ginny. Wake up, make breakfast, play with James, lunch, naps, play with James some more, dinner, give James a bath, put him to bed, spend some time with each other, before they, too, fell into bed. In between all that they cared for Albus, making sure he was warm enough, gaining enough weight, and a few times, they were forced to use the mask to help him breathe. It was a routine they slipped into easily.

A week after Harry had come home; Ginny put James in his cot after lunch, and trudged into her bedroom. James was on the verge of sleep, Albus was dry and full, and it was time for her to take a nap, too. 'You look like you could use some sleep, too,' she mumbled sleepily to Harry, who was stretched out on the bed, reading the journal.

'I will in a minute,' Harry promised. Ginny had written about everything from the day he left until the morning she and Albus had come home. 'This is good,' he told her. 'Very good.'

'What? The journal?'

'Mmm-hmm.' Harry turned a page. 'George was with you?'

'When I delivered Al? Yeah.'

Harry ran a hand over her head. 'I'm sorry I wasn't there.'

Shrugging, Ginny pulled the quilt over her. 'Not like we could have predicted any of the last two months.' She yawned widely and fell asleep.

Harry read several more pages, amazed as always, by the amount of devotion displayed by the Weasleys to each other. Ginny didn't write a chronological account of her time apart from Harry, but spent several pages on each member of the family, going from James to Albus, Molly and Arthur, her brothers, Andromeda. The pencil sketch Charlie had done of her and Albus was tucked into the back. The last bit was his. Some of the descriptions Ginny had written about his behavior made him uncomfortable, but he didn't find anything really inaccurate in her perceptions of him. Sighing, he turned the page, and what he read made his blood run cold. He looked at Ginny sleeping peacefully next to him, then back to the page covered in dark blue ink. _How could he?_ Harry thought angrily, forcefully shutting the journal, and rolling off the bed.

Harry opened the wardrobe and grabbed the trainers sitting on the floor, yanking them on. He needed to get out before he woke Ginny or the boys. She really would hex him into next week if he woke up James. James needed his nap; else he was crankier than he could be when he hadn't been sleeping. Harry burst into the back garden, turning in angry circles, before he made up his mind. Pulling out his wand, he slammed through the garden gate, and Disapparated to Shell Cottage.

Bill knelt at the flowerbeds in front of the house, surrounded by the brightly hued blossoms waving in the breeze coming off the sea. Harry walked up to him, still vibrating with his sense of outrage at Bill's presumption of the truth of his relationship with Ginny. 'I need to talk to you,' he blurted, half aware of how rude he sounded. He didn't care. 'Now.'

Bill straightened up, brushing the grass and dirt from his knees. 'What about?'

Harry nearly grabbed the front of Bill's shirt and slammed him against the wall of the house. 'How could you?' he growled. 'You have absolutely no idea about how I feel about Ginny!'

'I know, I…' Billy stammered, but Harry kept talking.

'Everything I've done… _Everything_, has been so my children – _our_ children – do not have to grow up the way we did. So they don't have to wonder if their parents leave that they'll come back home. And if that means I have to sacrifice things, then that's the way it has to be!'

Bill nodded. 'Harry, I –'

Harry cut him off savagely. 'And Ginny! Do you think it was easy for me to leave? To just pick up and seemingly abandon my pregnant wife for weeks at a time? I hated it! I hated every minute I was gone, and she was left here, alone.' Harry whirled around and strode to a nearby sapling, slamming his fist into the slender trunk, making the leaves tremble. 'Do you know – no you wouldn't, nobody does – that the last person I saw when I went into the Forest to face Voldemort was Ginny? That she was my last thought before Voldemort tried to kill me?' Panting, Harry rested his forehead against the trunk and wrapped his hands over the smooth bark. 'She made it possible for me to stand there and sacrifice myself.' He clutched the trunk, feeling the slight rough areas dig into the flesh of his palms. 'She's my life, Bill. I'd sooner amputate my own arm than do anything deliberately designed to hurt her.' He felt Bill's hand land on his shoulder. 'Why would you say that to her? Why would you imply that I could leave her and that it meant nothing to me?' Harry's voice was barely audible over the sound of the surf at the base of the cliffs.

'It wasn't you,' Bill said. 'I know you love her. It was me.' Harry took a few steps away and slid down the trunk, landing hard on the ground. 'Did Ginny tell you? About Mum and Dad?' Harry nodded tersely. 'I was putting all of that on the two of you. It was a mistake. My mistake.' Bill folded his lanky frame to the ground next to Harry. 'You were gone, and nobody knew where you were. And when the baby came, she was alone. And when you came back, the two of you weren't talking. It was sort of easy to put two and two together.' Bill scratched the back of his hand and glanced at Harry apologetically. 'It was a miscalculation.'

'You can say that again,' Harry growled. He pushed himself to his feet. 'I have to get back home.'

'Yeah,' sighed Bill. He looked up at Harry. 'I am sorry.'

Harry closed his eyes. 'I know. So am I.' He opened his eyes, and looked down at Bill. 'There were a hundred things I could have done differently on this case.' He started walking to the edge of the cliff to Disapparate back to Godric's Hollow, when Bill's voice stopped him.

'I'm glad you're back.'

Harry looked at Bill over his shoulder. 'Me, too.' He took out his wand, preparatory to Disapparating. 'Thanks.'

* * *

The days slipped into weeks, and before Harry knew it, the month was over. Al's weekly pediatric visits had been reduced to twice a month. James had been acclimated enough to his new brother to become annoyed at all the attention lavished on him. But one morning, while Al was in his cot, he began to cry. Startled at the noise, because Al hadn't cried before, they dashed into Al's bedroom, and found James standing next to the cot, shoving his beloved stuffed black dog through the slats. 'Ah-bee cry,' he informed them loftily, then stalked out of the room under his parents' perplexed gazes. The days it threatened to overwhelm Ginny, she was grateful to have Harry's presence when the boys were asleep, taking comfort in the familiarity of touch and scent. The rest of the family mercifully left them alone, until McAllister cleared Al to leave the confines of the house, and Harry, Ginny, James, and Al joined the family for Sunday lunch the day before Harry's twenty-sixth birthday.

Harry returned to work, and while Kingsley was true to his word that the amount of work wasn't much more than he doing before, there was much more detail and nuance to the job. Two weeks after he was given the responsibility of supervising the current cases, he turned to Ginny one night in a fit of pique and began to vent about the job the team had been doing. When he was done, he realized it was something he had missed while working on the case against Flanagan and Skeeter. He started making a conscious effort to talk to Ginny about his work again. She noticed. Sometimes she just listened. Others she offered advice.

Ginny didn't bring up playing Quidditch again, but had she expressed the desire to come out of retirement to rejoin the Harpies, Harry vowed she would know he was behind her, if that was what she wanted.

Shanti had given Ginny clearance to resume sex, but neither of them were up for it yet. Exhaustion usually claimed them soon after they put James to bed for the night. But the knowledge it was an option once more added a layer of anticipation to the kisses and caresses they shared. It was enough for now.

* * *

When Al was three months old, Harry packed him in the pram, and made his way to the cemetery on the other side of the village. He parked the pram outside the kissing gate, and lifted Al from its depths, and carried him through the gate and over to the triad of white headstones. Harry settled on the ground, securely pulling the knitted cap over Al's head. 'Hiya,' he said softly, turning Al around to face the headstones. 'I know you're probably going to hate the name, but this is Albus. Albus Severus Potter.' Harry ran a hand over the surface of his father and godfather's stones. 'I'm sure you think I've gone off my tree naming him after Snape, but I did this for Mum. It wasn't meant to be a slight against Remus. I hope you know that.' Harry rested his hand on his mother's stone. 'He deserves to be remembered, too.'

Harry turned his head and glanced in the direction of the small, black stone marking where he'd buried Snape nearly a decade ago. Harry got to his feet and took Al to the other grave. He took a deep breath, and knelt in front of the headstone bearing Snape's name. He opened his mouth a few times, but wasn't sure what to say. In the eight years he'd been coming here, he'd never spoken at Snape's grave. 'You probably hate that I've named my son for you. And I'll admit, it baffles everyone else.' He continued in a low voice. 'But if it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here.' Harry shifted the baby in his arms. 'Someone has to remember that.'

A giggle made Harry look up, and he saw Ginny and James standing by the gate. Harry reached out a tentative hand, and brushed his fingertips over the name etched into the stone, before rising to his feet, and wending through the headstones to his family. He stopped at the gate, and turned around, his eyes resting on the graves of his parents. 'I'll see you again soon.'

_The End._

* * *

A/N: And it's done... I'll admit I have mixed feelings about finishing this one. I've loved writing this one so very much, and I'm so appreciative of everyone who's taken the time to read it and let me know what you thought. :)

So the reunion wasn't as romantic as I'm sure most of you were hoping, but look on the bright side... I'll be doing Lily soon. :)

And a veritable smorgasboard of M&Ms for everyone. :) Take your pick: plain, peanut, almond, peanut butter, dark chocolate, milk chocolate...

Thank you again to everyone.


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